


no one on the corner (there's no one at home)

by Jazer



Series: Destroy the middle, it's a waste of space [6]
Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven GO, Inazuma Eleven: Ares no Tenbin
Genre: Atsuya can't handle the emotional stuff and Shirou just wants to drink his tea in peace, Character Study, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hyouga is Done and ready to fight, Hyouga quits soccer AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Itetsuki wants to wrap Hyouga in a blanket but also punch him because Reasons, Parental Fubuki Atsuya, Parental Fubuki Shirou, Team as Family, Trust Issues, Yukimura Hyouga transfers schools a lot, Yukimura Hyouga-centric, Yukimura is a reserved and timid kid but he's actually pretty savage and a smartass, because fuck adults that's why, before they actually start being the hakuren soccer team, he also befriends the hakuren team, slight AU, the fubuki parents are actually great and wholesome and very much alive in this one, the kids start a revolution and somehow rope Shirou and Atsuya in it, there's a cat cafe here, there's a hug in this one, this is an au of my au which is an au of an actual au, touch-starved Yukimura Hyouga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 22:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18352919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazer/pseuds/Jazer
Summary: In which Yukimura Hyouga does quit soccer right before Hakuren; does join the art club; does listen to his parents, but still ends up fighting Fifth Sector anyways because Fubuki Shirou is a little shit and Atsuya likes to mess with people. Oh and Itetsuki Touma thinks he's a loser and Hyouga is Not a loser.aka the Hakuren soccer club started a long time ago and Fifth Sector took over, but Hyouga still manages to build it from the ground up.aka an AU of another AU.





	1. you're a loser, yukimura

**Author's Note:**

> title from Look how far we've come by Matchbox 20
> 
> it was originally a short one shot because i was curious how different i could make it be, but then Lu threw at me Shirou's and Atsuya's parents and i had to add that and then before i knew it, it was like, 36k words long and yeah.
> 
> it was an accident.

Yukimura Hyouga quits soccer.

It’s not that he wants to. It’s not even that it interferes with his daily life – it’s just that his parents forced him to.

You see, Hyouga’s parents never liked soccer, they never liked anything Hyouga did, simply because—

Well. He doesn’t actually know. That’s not even the point. It’s not like his mother didn’t just regularly take things away from him, like violin, or knitting –something like this was to be expected ever since Hyouga came back home with a soccer ball instead of another piece of drawing. He doesn’t remember much of that – only that the next day, he had to change schools. That was fine. Until it happened more than twice.

Hyouga transferred nine times before Hakuren Junior High School.

Even that is not the point.

The point is that Yukimura Hyouga quits soccer.

That’s all there is to that and if anyone asks, Hyouga got bored of it. It’s better this way. His parents are happy and Hyouga practices art and nobody hurts him, so it’s all good.

He’s fine with that.

* * *

 

Expect for the fact that he really, really is not fine with that and he makes sure that no one actually knows that, because if they did, the questions would start, like when Yamada-sensei, Hyouga’s homeroom teacher, asked him what his hobby is and he answered automatically that it’s soccer.

“You chose to join the art club,” she pointed out, looking at the sheet of paper in her hand.

Hyouga didn’t let it show on his face, but inside, he flinched.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

_Because my parents made me._

Hyouga couldn’t say that, because technically, the Hakuren’s policy is that no one can, under any circumstances, force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do, even his parents. He’s aware of that fact because he checked it the second he got there.

So Hyouga shrugged and hoped he seemed like any other kid who’s not happy to be at school at all, “I like art more.”

Which is one of the biggest lies he’s ever told anyone, ever.

Not like Yamada-sensei has to know that. She looked at him and nodded, convinced for the time being.

There are lots of things that Hyouga has a hard time stopping that have to do with soccer. The second he sees the ball, he has to fight the urge to pick it up and dribble it. His legs are constantly restless by his desk as he goes over his art projects. He can’t sleep at night because he doesn’t get tired enough during the day.

That’s just some of them.

The most dangerous of them all is mentioning any of it to his parents.

Hyouga used to talk to them, a lot. Before he realizes it’s no use and it can only earn him a good slap or a scolding for being childish.

So he lets things be, he deals because that’s what Hyouga does the best and moves forward despite the way his heart breaks over and over again under the pressure of his parents’ expectations.

* * *

 

Technically, Hyouga is forbidden from _playing_ soccer.

But no one ever said anything about _watching_ it, so Hyouga took sudden interest of coming to the gym when the soccer club has practice and he observes from the stands above. That way, there’s no way somebody can recognize him and report him to his parents.

(He doesn’t think his parents would recruit someone to spy on him, but he wouldn’t put it past them. That and he isn’t entirely sure if it would even be legal to do  so).

Usually, everything’s the same.

It’s no wonder, because Fifth Sector, the organization Hyouga familiarized himself at the beginning of the school #5, makes sure no one actually plays like they could. That is, to their full potential. The current coach – Furihata-san who probably knows more than he lets on – just stands on the sidelines and only watches.

Hyouga doesn’t like him, at all.

However, the thrill of actually watching soccer, slowly turns into desire of playing it and after restless night after another, Hyouga decides to ask for the key to the gym. The school doesn’t have problems with it as long as he locks it down after he’s done.

So Hyouga practices alone.

Kicks the ball, dribbles the ball, juggles the ball. There’s only so much to do when he’s just one person, but he makes do. It’s better than letting himself rot away at the stands and doing absolutely nothing but brooding about the fact that he could never stand with them, on the field.

Aside from practicing in the gym, Hyouga takes up ice-skating, ends up with bruised knees and arms to the point of them becoming purple. That’s until someone finally takes pity on him – or is just annoyed because Hyouga keeps running into random people at the ice-rink – and pulls him aside.

“You suck,”  the boy about Hyouga’s age roughly, with light blue hair cut in zig-zags and black eyes, comments, “I’m sorry to say that, but it’s true.”

Hyouga ignores the fact that the boy doesn’t sound sorry at all, and only blinks, far too used to critique, “I know.”

“I would be worried if you didn’t,” he says.

Hyouga shrugs and makes move to get on the rink again when the boy sighs, “Why are you even here?”

“To skate.”

The boy frowns, “No. I mean, why someone who’s obviously not into skating, is here,” Hyouga narrows his eyes, “Because let me tell you, there’s no use forcing yourself.”

“You don’t know me.”

“You don’t know me either,” the boy shoots back almost immediately, then looks in the direction of the ice, “Look. Let’s make a deal. I teach you how to skate without killing random kids, and you, uh,” he pauses, “I don’t know. Tell me why you’re doing this.”

“Why do you care?”

The boy looks at him like he’s stupid, “I don’t. I just think you suck.”

Hyouga opens his mouth to answer, then nods. That’s acceptable. Hyouga _does_ suck.

“Yukimura Hyouga,” he says.

The boy, already on the ice, turns to look at him, “Huh?”

“My name.”

The boy stares him down, then a slow smirk appears on his face, “Itetsuki Touma. Pleasure to meet you, Yukimura.”

And then, Hyouga proceeds to step on the ice—

And fall flat on his face a second later with Itetsuki Touma looking at him like Hyouga’s just meant to die on ice.

Hyouga accepts it and sighs.

* * *

 

“You speed skate?”

Itetsuki-san barely glances at Hyouga, making slow circles on the ice, “Yeah.”

Hyouga can’t keep awe out of his voice as he properly looks at him, “That’s so cool.”

There’s a pause while Itetsuki-san rounds him and says, “Don’t be so happy. You can barely keep yourself upright.”

Hyouga pouts.

“I’m getting better.”

Itetsuki-san opens his mouth but Hyouga, getting distracted in trying to copy him, falls on his ass once again. He glances at Hyouga pointedly. Hyouga looks away.

 

* * *

 

“You’re late again,” his mother comments when he comes back.

Hyouga likes to think he’s past caring about anything ever since he yield down and quit soccer, but there are moments like this, when he greets his mother and there’s chill running down his black and he feels panicked even though nothing happened yet.

Yet, a good word to describe it.

“I was finishing up my work,” he answers carefully.

His mother narrows her eyes as he brings out the leftovers and puts them in the microwave, “Is that so?”

There it is.

The fear of replying wrong. Hyouga is tired of constantly watching his step around people he should never have to be cautious of.

“You know I take my work seriously,” he says and it feels like a lie and he thinks back to Itetsuki-san and the ice-skating practice and it hurts knowing he could never tell her about it, “Art is what I’m supposed to do, right?”

Right?

Hyouga’s mother suddenly smiles, and there’s a triumphant glint in her eye, as if she won something and Hyouga despises that he wants to wipe that smile off her face, because she’s his mother, he should be happy if she’s happy, right?

Hyouga wonders what would happen if he didn’t listen. Then, he wonders why he won’t even let himself admit that he knows exactly what would happen. The turned on recorder on his phone hidden in the pocket of his pants weights a ton – reminding Hyouga how he has taken interest of always having it on when he comes home after few less than safe incidents.

There’s a faint line in their little family, one that Hyouga is too scared to cross. The one that could get snapped in two if Hyouga disobeyed.

“That’s good, honey,” sick feeling sets in Hyouga’s stomach when he hears the pride in her voice, “I’m happy.”

Happy.

_What about my happiness?_

The microwave beeps, so Hyouga takes the plate and sits at the dinner. A little after that, his father joins him. His mother still talks and talks and Hyouga wants to cover his ears, wants to snap and says he never wanted this, he hates it.

He keeps quiet.

Dinner ends with Hyouga going to his room and considering throwing a pillow at the wall, or punching it.

In the end, he does his homework and tries to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Itetsuki Touma is an enigma.

He’s loud in a quiet way – that both explains everything and nothing. He helps Hyouga, makes sure Hyouga doesn’t kill himself on ice, orders him to take breaks, but never says anything. He just does it. It’s weird, it’s unpractical, but it somehow works for both him and Hyouga.

He brings two lunches, too. And a scarf. After noticing Hyouga doesn’t have a warm gloves, Itetsuki-san gives him his own. After seeing that Hyouga has hard time keeping up, he slows down. When Hyouga panics over getting a move wrong, he pulls him aside and tells him to breathe.

He never asks why Hyouga he acts the way he is.

Itetsuki Touma is just undoubtedly _there._

It comes to a point where Hyouga easily glides on the ice, without falling flat on his ass and he even manages to do little spins. The first time it happens, Itetsuki-san stands by the railing with arms crossed and a proud glint in his eyes – one that feels different than his mother’s, it feels sincere.

“You did it,” Itetsuki-san comments when Hyouga joins him off the ice-rink, “You actually managed to stop being a loser.”

“I was never a loser!” Hyouga defends.

Itetsuki-san deadpans at him, “You tripped on the even ground. In front of me. I saw it, Yukimura.”

Hyouga flushes red and he glares, “It was slippery.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“Shut up,” Hyouga hisses out.

Itetsuki Touma is also a little shit, if no one noticed that before. People are fooled into thinking that he’s the nice kid, but he’s actually aggressively polite and annoying. Hyouga knows he means well, kind of. He never really had friends, is Itetsuki-san even a friend?

Hyouga doesn’t know.

He probably won’t ever know, because he’s a coward and—

“Okay. Spill.”

Hyouga snaps back to reality, “Huh?”

“The deal. I helped you, now you tell me why you’re doing this,” Itetsuki-san easily swings his bag over his shoulder and calmly looks at Hyouga, “I spend weeks teaching you, after all.”

Hyouga gulps and looks away.

“I told you. I just wanted to skate.”

Itetsuki-san snorts, “Nice try, Yukimura. The truth, please.”

They stop at the lights but when it turns green, Hyouga doesn’t move. He just stares at the ground, hoping it could actually swallow him up. There’s one thing telling Itetsuki-san why he’s doing what he does, and another is trusting him.

Because if the word somehow got out that Hyouga skates, his parents wouldn’t let it slide.

“I—“ he cuts off.

He can’t say it. Not really. He doesn’t even know, he just picked up ice-skating one day and decided it would be good for his health.

Except, that’s a lie.

Hyouga quit soccer, but that never meant that he stopped loving it, too.

The practice at the gym, when he’s all alone, the ice-skating. It’s all so Hyouga could still move and train, even if he couldn’t touch the ball and play with others.

Hyouga glances at Itetsuki-san, but the boy is looking up, as if thinking.

“Okay,” Itetsuki-san finally says and when he does, his voice is not annoyed, or upset, or disappointed, it’s as if he was expecting Hyouga to answer like that, “You should try snowboarding next.”

“Huh?”

Itetsuki-san looks at him, at last, and raises an eyebrow, “You’re doing this for something, aren’t you?” Hyouga can’t nod, but his eyes must have given him away, because Itetsuki-san sighs, “Thought so. Whatever that is, I don’t really care.”

“But you—“

“I was curious, at first,” he says and when the light turns green again, he starts walking. Hyouga hesitantly follows him, “Because a person who sucks so much would have long given up. But you didn’t, so you obviously have a reason to keep it up.”

“So why suggest snowboarding?”

Itetsuki-san grins, “It’s fun watching you fall all the time.”

Hyouga actually halts at that, shocked, maybe not because of the way he said it, but because of the way he just casually started talking with Hyouga from the beginning. As if they knew each other from way before.

It’s like he genuinely wants to spend time with Hyouga.

At least, that’s what Hyouga would like to think.

Itetsuki-san glances at him and there’s a knowing look on him, so Hyouga quickly catches up, “You’re so mean, Itetsuki-san.”

The other boy gives him a nudge to the ribs and snorts when Hyouga yelps, “Only to you.”

For some reason, the familiarity of that makes Hyouga smile for the rest of the walk.

 

* * *

 

Snowboarding is way harder than ice-skating, but it seems amusing to Itetsuki-san, because Hyouga can hear him laughing all the way down where Hyouga is laying in the snow regretting his life choices.

At first, it seemed harmless to try, but apparently, Hyouga is just not used to speed like Itetsuki-san and only manages to roll down the hill instead of gliding down it.

He sits up, after the fall number ten and glares at the snow. In the background, Itetsuki-san cackles.

He thinks he won’t like snowboarding after all.

* * *

 

He doesn’t. Like snowboarding, that is, because just few days later, Itetsuki-san is with him again (this time, silently judging Hyouga’s poor attempts to keep himself on the snowboard) and Hyouga feels like, maybe, just maybe he can get it now.

Of course, the life was never fair for Hyouga.

In reality, Hyouga should’ve expected something like this to happen, but he didn’t realize he sucks that much.

And by that he means, sliding right into a stranger with incredible speed and in turn, making both of them fall into the snow.

Itetsuki-san’s laugh suddenly cuts off but Hyouga is too busy clenching his fists and gritting his teeth in frustration to notice that. He’s on his back in the cold weather, on the snow, in far too thin clothing and he feels like this is it. That’s the peak of how much dumber he can get. He thinks he understands now why his parents always tell him he’s only good for art and nothing else.

He covers his face with his arm and breathes.

Itetsuki-san must have actually slid down to him, because seconds later he’s standing above him, judging expression gone, but not forgotten and a crease between his eyebrows.

He reaches out his hand, “Maybe getting you to snowboard wasn’t such a good idea after all,” Itetsuki-san says.

Hyouga laughs bitterly, thinks of his parents and the words, ‘art is everything to you from now on,’ and answers, “I shouldn’t even be outside right now.”

Itetsuki-san blinks at that, but Hyouga gets up himself and dusts off his pants off of the snow and then he realizes one important thing. He turns around with a panicked look and immediately sees the person he knocked over. Itetsuki-san follows his gaze and for a moment, Hyouga thinks he smirked.

“Uh,” Hyouga starts, feeling hot and cold at the same time, “I’m so sorry,” he manages to get out.

The man actually looks confused for a moment, before he shakes his head, getting up far more gracefully than Hyouga who almost tripped again in his attempt to stand straight and offers Hyouga a smile, “It’s alright.”

Hyouga isn’t convinced that it is, but lets it slide. Then, Itetsuki-san throws his arm around Hyouga and ignores his flinch in favor of looking up at the man, “Fubuki Shirou-san, am I right?”

Hyouga blinks, but the man tilts his head, “Who’s asking?”

Itetsuki-san’s shit-eating grin makes Hyouga gulp, far too used to it despite knowing the boy for less than a month, but he keeps quiet, “Thought so. Does that mean the other one is here, too?”

Half wanting to scold Itetsuki-san for speaking out of line and half wanting to  find out what the hell is that supposed to be, Hyouga finally decides to speak up, “Could you let me go?”

The grip loosens, but Itetsuki-san doesn’t let go, “Nope.”

It’s uncomfortable and hot and cold, and Hyouga wants out even though it’s nothing wrong, it’s just an arm around his shoulder but it feels _suffocating._ He grits his teeth, tries to deal, but it’s hard when it’s so clear that there’s panic gnawing in Hyouga’s chest.

It’s weird, because normally, Itetsuki-san would stop. He’s always been good at guessing whether Hyouga’s comfortable or not and he never pushed. So why now—

“If by the other one, you mean my brother—“

“Yes, that one.”

“—then, yes.” Then the man narrows his eyes, but the smile on his face doesn’t dim, “Although, I don’t see why you would like to know that.”

“Itetsuki Touma,” he supplies, sensing the pause at the end, “And that here is my friend—“

“Itetsuki-san,” Hyouga cuts off, “I have to get home.”

The man is still looking at them, even when Itetsuki-san sighs and lets him go. Hyouga finally lets himself breathe.

“Sorry,” Itetsuki-san offers as a way of goodbye, and Hyouga doesn’t waste any time getting out of there.

 

* * *

 

There’s a weird lady hanging around Hyouga’s neighborhood.

Her hair reminds Hyouga of grey wolf’s because of its color and it’s spiked and it also reminds Hyouga of someone else but he cannot put a name to a face. Her eyes are silvery, but they don’t feel cold, rather – they’re really warm.

Then, there’s the fact that she has hunting clothes on.

 _Weird,_ Hyouga thinks again, then watches as the plastic bag she’s carrying slips from her hand and apples roll down the road. Hyouga’s first instinct is to not react and pass by, but there’s something about her that doesn’t let him. Hyouga takes hesitant first steps, before he decides that damn this, it’s just helping somebody pick their groceries. Nothing big.

So that’s what he does and when he offers the fallen apples to that lady, she frowns at him.

“Where’s you scarf, young man?”

Hyouga freezes, “Excuse me?”

But it’s already too late and the woman unwraps her own and ignoring Hyouga’s flinch and surprise, wraps it around him. The warmth that comes with it isn’t only external, Hyouga knows because now it’s just feels like he’s hot all over and that can’t be, because the weather is freezing. “Now. Better, right?”

Hyouga touches the soft, woolen fabric and gapes at her, “Um—“

“Thank you for helping me,” she says after she makes sure there’s no way the cold can get him, “Now—“

And then, because Hyouga doesn’t want to come home either way and that lady is actually really nice, nicer than his mother ever could be, offers a quiet, “Would you like me to help you carry those?”

The woman looks pleasantly surprised only for a second before she gives him the lighter bag. He wonders if she saw the deep bangs under his eyes. Is it because of them that she let him help? Hyouga doesn’t understand why strangers are either so kind or so cruel, but he’s not complaining.

“Thank you,” she says again.

Hyouga nods, face half hidden in a scarf.

For a moment, they walk in silence. It’s not a tense silence – the one Hyouga usually feels at home, with his parents, with people in the art club – this one is different and comfortable. He knows the moment he leaves to come back home that he’s going to miss it.

The lady suddenly gasps, “Oh no, where are my manners?” Hyouga doesn’t have time to answer when she glances at him, the same gentle smile Hyouga swears he saw somewhere before, “I didn’t even ask your name.”

Hyouga blinks, then slowly, “…Yukimura,” then after a pause when the lady patiently waits for the rest, he adds, “Yukimura Hyouga.”

“Hyouga-kun, then,” she decides, “It’s very nice to meet you. You can call me Yukine.”

Hyouga watches as the snow starts to fall again, “Yukine-san, then.”

The genuine smile that spreads on Yukine-san’s face is more than enough to erase any doubts Hyouga had about coming home later than usual.

* * *

 

It’s only when he finally finds himself in his room that he realizes.

He never gave Yukine-san her scarf back.

 

* * *

 

And then, Hyouga meets another, weird person, but this time it’s because he makes a mistake of visiting the soccer grounds belonging to the playfield next to the elementary school Hyouga recognizes seeing in a newspaper once.

For one, he shouldn’t even be there because his parents forbid him from ever touching a soccer ball. So maybe it’s his fault for walking past the field and seeing the ball, maybe if his parents find out, he will also tell himself that he deserves a slap that will probably follow that stunt.

After all, Hyouga tells himself a lot of things he’d never dare to repeat out-loud.

Like that time he messed up a drawing, he told himself his father is justified in hitting his fingers with a ruler; because Hyouga messed up and someone of Yukimura line should never mess up something like art.

So he walks past the fence and takes that ball and when he takes it, he feels like it’s heavy and it’s clear that it’s been used a lot because it’s dirty and worn out. Hyouga briefly recalls that his own ball looked the same before it was thrown into the trash.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring at it, but he knows that after some time, someone clears their throat.

Hyouga jumps and drops the ball. It rolls over to the man standing in the entrance and quickly finds itself in his hands.

“Is it yours?” he asks as he spins the ball on his finger.

Hyouga takes a minute to study the man’s dark blue – he thinks, he’s not sure in the light of the sun setting down – and brown eyes that remind Hyouga of lazy mornings. Or at least that’s what he would say to sound more poetic than he feels if he wasn’t having a moment of self-pity. Maybe he’s actually stalling for time.

“No,” he finally manages to get out of himself, “I just found it.”

The man nods, “I see.” Then his eyes lit up, “Do you play?”

Hyouga’s first instinct is to say ‘no’ because that’s what always saved his ass with his parents. He takes one look at the man’s friendly face and takes a deep breath.

“I used to,” he says instead.

“Mhm, why did you stop?”

“It got boring,” Hyouga lies, then narrows his eyes, “Do you need something, sir?”

“Ah, haha,” the man lets the ball fall on the ground with a sheepish smile, “Please, no sir. It’s making me feel old.”

 _You are old, probably,_ Hyouga wants to add, but out-loud he says, “Then?”

“Daiki,” the man offers, “It’s my name.”

Hyouga blinks, then nods, “Alright. Daiki-san, do you need something?”

“You’re not going to tell me your name?”

Hyouga’s shoulders slump, but he sighs and answers, albeit a little hesitantly, “Yukimura Hyouga.”

“Hyou-chan, then,” At Hyouga’s grimace, he quickly corrects, “Yuki-chan? Mura-chan?”

“Just— My name is enough.”

“Hyouga-kun, then,” the man decides solemnly.

Hyouga wants to bang his face on the wall, but he resigns himself to shaking his head.

Daiki-san suddenly smiles, “Then, shall we play?”

On a second thought, maybe he should just go ahead and do bang his head on something really hard. It would save him from the headache he already feels is coming. Still, he eyes the ball on the field and he practically FEELS the urge to touch it, to kick it.

Then, he remembers his parents. It’s like someone dropped a bucket of ice on him.

He looks away, “No, thank you.”

Daiki-san’s smile slips from his face and he frowns, “Is something wrong?”

Hyouga would really like to ask what’s up with people randomly showing him kindness but he bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head instead. Everything inside him however, tells him to run, because it’s a stranger, God knows what the man is actually up to.

But Hyouga can’t bring himself to move. He wonders if he just doesn’t care what happens to him or if it’s because Daiki-san seems so kind, so nice, so different than Hyouga’s father.

“I see,” Daiki-san continues, then, “But you are troubled about something.”

Hyouga presses his lips together. The man doesn’t move.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Daiki-san says, “I actually would have to scold you if you did.”

Hyouga doesn’t say anything for a moment, thinking, rethinking, deciding and all in one, he just wonders – and he realizes that’s all he does nowadays. Keeps trying to figure out solution to his  situation in a way that won’t possibly get him kicked out of the house. Keeps fighting for anything, for something.

Someone once said that some people don’t need something big to help them. That if you just offer them something – anything – that’s all they could ask for. It’s like they come to someone for help and say, “Please, give me something to fight with,” and then they get a stick and that’s enough.

After all, if anyone remembers playing with sticks in childhood, they probably remember that a simple stick could quickly turn out to be the deadliest and most effective weapon.

Hyouga then thinks, that maybe he wants a stick like that, so he says, “Soccer really is fun, isn’t it?”

Daiki-san grins, “It sure is,” then after a moment, there’s fondness in his eyes, “You know, you remind me kind of my son.”

Hyouga blinks, but Daiki-san doesn’t elaborate on that.

When the man’s wife? When someone calls him, Hyouga slips unnoticed through the exit and leaves the soccer ball behind where it was before and wishes, so desperately, that he could play again.

 

* * *

 

Hyouga watches the soccer club from the stands above again and notices with a tint of horror, that they recruited a new coach.

Or more accurately, two new coaches.

Hyouga doesn’t know whether he’s happy for them or not – he doesn’t know if it’s the Fifth Sector’s doing or not, but when he looks even further down, he realizes that those men are not the only new faces around. On the field, Hyouga sees Itetsuki-san, a blonde-haired red-eyed girl in the Hakuren’s school uniform, and couple of others Hyouga recalls seeing in passing.

That day’s practice is refreshing.

Not only the Coach #1 is calm and collected, he seems like he knows what he’s doing. It’s the first time since Fifth Sector that Hyouga sees the team actually working on improving themselves and it makes him twitch on his seat. Coach #1 has grey, spiked up hair, and equally teal-grey eyes and he wears a jacket similar to the man next to him, except his is blue.

For some reason, Hyouga remembers seeing him once, but can’t put a name to a face yet.

The Coach #2 has his hair even more spiked up and it’s pale orange which Hyouga must admit, goes well with the brown of his jacket. He seems, a little… more aggressive.

“Itetsuki, pick up a pace! I know you can run faster than that!”

 _Like that, exactly,_ Hyouga thinks, grimacing when Itetsuki-san throws the man a glare, but seems to gather his bearings and does, indeed, run faster than that.

It’s weird seeing the whole team like this – training, instead of just doing. Well. Nothing really.

 He sighs when the practice ends and slowly makes his way downstairs to pick up the keys for his own practice.

* * *

 

Hyouga kicks the ball into the empty goal.

He feels like there’s difference in power, that he got better despite not actually playing soccer, that the snowboarding and ice-skating worked like Hyouga expected it to work.

However, is there really a point?

He kicks the ball again. And again. Until there are countless of balls laying in the goal and with its score, Hyouga feels emptier, like he’s actually ripping himself apart.

What’s the point of kicking it, if Hyouga will never play?

He thinks – no. He thought, that there is purpose in this. That maybe, if he does what his parents want, that they will be proud. That they will love Hyouga. But it’s only worse, and Hyouga hates it and he hates that he can’t bring himself to quite despise his parents either.

They don’t. Love him, that is.

It seems that there is Yukimura Hyouga – the artistic son, a pride and joy, someone who doesn’t make mistakes  and will make money. And Yukimura Hyouga – the soccer player, the knitter, the not-so-perfect son who hates art and how it makes him feel. And he always knew that they will not accept that.

He hoped, yes.

He sees now, that it doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever Hyouga does is not enough and it will never be enough, not for people like his parents.

He collects the balls, puts them in the basket. He cleans the gym. He changes his clothes. He locks the gym and goes to return the key to the teacher’s lounge.

As he passes in the hallway, he sees Hakuren’s soccer team with their coaches, sees them smiling, laughing. Hyouga stares at them for a long time, something twisting inside of him at the sight of it, before he looks away.

He will never be like them.

And that’s okay.

He knows he could never be.

* * *

 

Then, the unthinkable happens.

At first, Hyouga is reluctant to continue coming to the stands in the gym when the soccer club has practice, because a) he’s supposed to avoid anything soccer related and b) there’s a possibility someone from the art club could see him and report to the teacher who in turn could inform his parents.

But he comes.

And he regrets it, the knife digging deeper and Hyouga watches them anyways, because that’s who Hyouga is – a big masochist, because he can never join them, he can never be friends with any of them at the same level that Itetsuki-san is.

 _It’s a little stupid,_ he thinks, _that somehow, my parents can even make me despise watching soccer._

And then, someone taps him on the shoulder and Hyouga’s soul leaves his body when he slowly turns around.

The relief at not seeing someone from the art club is enormous and Hyouga noticeably slumps against the seat. The girl above him doesn’t seem to notice and if she does, she doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, she smiles down at him and tilts her head at the field down.

“You come here often, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he allows, staring at her red eyes and then, clears his throat and looks away just in time to see Itetsuki-san passing the ball to the defense, “Probably.”

She nods, blonde hair slipping on her shoulders now, “Thought so. Do you want to join?”

Hyouga focuses on the yells of the coach #2, “…not really.”

She snorts, “Coach Atsuya isn’t that bad,” she comments, hands intertwining behind her back, “Neither is Coach Shirou. Do you like soccer?”

“No.”

The girl frowns, “Then why do you come and watch our practice?”

Then it clicks.

It’s not just any girl, it’s the new manager of the team. Hyouga wonders if they just replaced everyone with new members. It sure looks like it.

He shrugs, “Got nothing else to do,” he lies, thinking about a stock of unfinished drawings he needed for the next session, “Do you need something?”

She stares hard at him, then apparently hears someone calling her and she shakes her head, “No.”

Hyouga doesn’t wait for her to finish her sentence, already turned around to watch the rest of the practice. She goes back downstairs without a word.

 

* * *

 

Or apparently, not without a word.

“So. You met Risuna.”

Hyouga pauses in untying his ice-skates and looks at Itetsuki-san already changed and ready to leave. Hyouga doesn’t know how the boy does it so quickly, but he blames it for Itetsuki-san’s speed skating and Hyouga’s own laziness.

“Who?”

Itetsuki-san eyes him suspiciously, as if weighting if Hyouga tells the truth, then explains, “Risuna Kou. The manager. Blonde?”

Hyouga stills.

Itetsuki-san immediately notices, “So you did.”

“And?” is Hyouga’s distressed answer, “I talked to her. What’s the problem?”

The barely-there but still there smirk that makes its way onto the boy’s face makes Hyouga’s stomach drop and feel like he accidentally played himself into an enemy’s hands, “I never said it’s a problem, Yukimura.”

Hyouga swallows down hard and goes back to putting away his skates, “Right.”

There’s a beat of silence, “What were you doing there?”

“Watching.”

“You said you don’t play soccer.”

Hyouga feels panic grip his chest, but schools his expression into a neutral one and just shrugs, “I don’t.”

“But you still came.”

Hyouga drops his bag loudly on the floor, the stuff in it tinkering against the shoes and he sighs, “Alright, what’s your point?”

This time, Itetsuki-san doesn’t hesitate and doesn’t try to trick Hyouga into giving information. If anything, Itetsuki-san is painfully honest and painfully straightforward. Hyouga doesn’t know why he expected him to sugar-coat his words.

“I thought it was weird,” he says and Hyouga ignores the way he looks at Hyouga, like he knows despite Hyouga not confirming anything, “That some random kid would just pick up ice-skating, when it’s so clear it’s not for him. Then, you actually tried snowboarding, too.”

“I just thought it was cool,” Hyouga defends.

Itetsuki-san smiles grimly, “Do you think I’m stupid, Yukimura?”

Hyouga flinches.

“No,” he whispers.

“Well, it looks like it,” Itetsuki-san says bluntly and Hyouga hunches his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller and less important, to hide from Itetsuki-san’s piercing gaze, to not let him know how badly Hyouga actually wants to play, “Did you think I wouldn’t actually find out?”

Hyouga bites his tongue.

“You played soccer. Yet, you don’t anymore. So what’s the deal?”

“I—“

“Do you have some injury I should know about? Is that it?”

“No—“

“Then what?” Itetsuki-san asks impatiently.

“I can’t!” he blurts out, desperate and he doesn’t care that he’s shaking and fighting with every ounce of his body to not run away this moment, because that’s usually the case – Hyouga runs away from his problems like a professional, but that wouldn’t be fair to Itetsuki-san

There’s a beat of silence as Itetsuki-san slides his hand down his face. He looks twice the age he actually is, “Okay.”

Hyouga’s head snaps to meet his eyes, “What?”

“Okay,” he repeats, although it’s clear he wants to say something else and Hyouga worries – because that’s something he’s good at, too – that that’s it. He finally got fed up with Hyouga’s ridiculous bullshit. He’s going to leave and hate Hyouga for keeping the truth  to himself. He’s going to hate him, because Hyouga’s a wimpy, stupid—

A hand smacks the back of his head.

Hyouga blinks surprised at Itetsuki-san who’s standing above him with an annoyed expression.

 Hyouga gulps, “I’m sorry?”

Itetsuki-san rolls his eyes, “I said it’s okay, so it’s okay. Do you always overthink like that? I swear I could hear it.”

Hyouga looks away, shame prickling at his eyes. Itetsuki-san’s eyes don’t soften at all, but Hyouga feels a subtle change In his posture, as if the boy was intentionally making himself look less intimidating.

Then, Hyouga repeats. This time in a quieter and meeker voice, “I can’t play soccer.”

Hyouga digs his nails into the skin of his palm. Itetsuki-san’s eyes zero in on it, and for a moment, there’s a chill in the air that’s not quite related to the weather. Hyouga digs them even deeper, before Itetsuki-san just takes his hands, takes Hyouga’s and his own bag and pulls him up. Hyouga stumbles after him with a confused yelp.

“We’re going somewhere,” Itetsuki-san says as a way of explanation.

Hyouga just nods. He’s not sure he could speak even if he wanted to.

* * *

 

 

“Alright, so let me get this straight this time,” Itetsuki-san begins as they enter the cat café and seat themselves near the window on the opposite side of the table, “You played soccer, but for some reason you can’t anymore.”

Hyouga tries to distract himself as the white cat comes to him and climbs onto his lap, “Yeah.”

Itetsuki-san is clearly hesitating. His fingers twitch restlessly against the wood of the table and he frowns like he was given a riddle to solve. Hyouga watches for a moment, hand sliding through the cat’s fur, before he looks away from the boy and lets out a shaky breath, “My parents won’t let me.”

Itetsuki-san’s hand stops and he stills.

Hyouga feels his heart picking up its speed again, mind messy and he wonders what makes Itetsuki Touma so different; why he chose to stay when it’s clear Hyouga’s not meant for close contacts with anybody; why did he help him with ice-skating? There are hundreds of things Itetsuki-san did for Hyouga that make no sense to him.

“Your parents won’t let you,” there’s a sudden change in Itetsuki-san’s usually calm voice, something underneath it, something Hyouga doesn’t understand, “Why?”

Hyouga startles when the white cat jumps off his lap and mourns the loss of distraction. Instead, he digs his nails into his palms and feels the sweat. The room is probably hot, but Hyouga is freezing.

“Why, huh?” Hyouga laughs awkwardly, “It’s just. They don’t like it, that’s all.”

Itetsuki-san stares at him, “Why?” he repeats sternly.

Acid comes up to his throat as Hyouga shrugs, helpless, “They just don’t.”

Because Hyouga doesn’t know, it’s possible that he never will anyways. It’s all gone anyways, no soccer, no hope for future career – only art and a possible job as a designer of some sorts, following into his parents’ footsteps.

It’s not like it doesn’t hurt – rather, it would hurt more if soccer was taken from him by force, like violin was, like knitting.

His parents never liked what Hyouga loved. That’s just how it was and Hyouga learned not to question it.

There’s a sound and suddenly, Itetsuki-san is leaning back on his chair, arms crossed and a frown on his face disappearing and changing into a hard expression. Like he knows. And that scares Hyouga the most, that Itetsuki-san has this way of knowing whether something is wrong.

“What would happen if you did anyways?”

Hyouga doesn’t answer. Itetsuki-san sighs.

“It’s getting late,” Hyouga says, but Itetsuki-san doesn’t move from his seat, doesn’t even blink when Hyouga nervously glances at the clock hanging above the door to the toilet, “Don’t you have to get home?”

And then, there’s a glint in the other boy’s eyes, “I’m not scared of what can happen if I’m a little late,” a pause as Itetsuki-san tilts his head, “Are you?”

Hyouga feels a cold chill run down his spine.

“Are you trying to make me come home late?”

“No,” a shrug and a lazy _I-know-what-you’re-trying-to-do-and-it’s-not-working_ smile makes its way onto Itetsuki-san’s face, “But either you tell me the truth or I’m following you home.”

“What truth? I’ve never—“

“Why don’t you play soccer?”

The world stops for a second.

“I told you,” he whispers carefully.

Itetsuki-san shakes his head, “You told me your parents don’t like soccer. I want to know the reason why you’re so scared of going against them.”

“I’m not scare—“ he starts to say, but he gets choked up, both because he knows he was about to lie and because Itetsuki-san’s eyes pierce through him as if he already knew about it, as if he just wanted Hyouga to admit it out loud, “Please.”

Silence.

“I can’t tell,” Hyouga tries again.

“You’re scared to.”

“Itetsuki-san—“

“They hurt you, don’t they?”

Hyouga feels like he can’t breathe.

“Please.”

Itetsuki-san’s eyes darken, “I never noticed any bruises, you never really flinched away when I touched your shoulder, you only tense up as hell. But you’re always so surprised, like you expect me to hurt you. Like I’m going to turn my back on you any moment and the worst thing is that you look like it’s something normal,” he leans forward, voice lowering, “So, don’t try to give me that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit, because I won’t buy it.”

“I don’t—“

“They hurt you,” Itetsuki-san finishes, “And I don’t care if it’s physical or emotional, you’re hurt, Yukimura.”

Hyouga holds his breath.

“And that’s why you’re so scared of playing soccer.”

Hyouga tries to remember how to breath, but it’s getting harder and harder, and his sight is getting blurry and he’s actually getting choked up again and—

Itetsuki-san keeps silent. It seems he said everything he needed and wanted to say.

Hyouga feels too exposed, too vulnerable, like Itetsuki-san saw his weakness and Hyouga gave him a gun to shoot and be done with it. But there’s no laughing at Hyouga, Itetsuki-san never said anything about telling someone about it. He’s just there, again, and he doesn’t try anything.

He lifts his head to stare at Itetsuki-san’s hand on the table and he lets out a shaky breath, “Nothing goes past you, huh, Itetsuki-san?”

A beat of silence, then, “You know me. I’m not fond of watching my friends hurting.”

_Friends._

Itetsuki-san said they were friends.

Hyouga whips his head up to glance at him, and the boy’s black eyes don’t flinch away from his own when Hyouga tries to find a lie in them, a secret catch. There’s nothing but honesty. No matter how much time he spends looking into them, that’s that.

He’s not lying.

“What do you want me to do?” Hyouga asks in a hoarse, strained voice.

Itetsuki-san watches him for a moment, studying his face, before he huffs, “You’ll call me.”

Hyouga blinks, “Call you?”

Itetsuki-san is already ripping out a page from his notebook and scribbling down his number, “Yes. Whatever is happening and if it gets too bad, you’re going to call me and I’m going to answer,” he passes the paper and Hyouga grips it like a lifeline, “I don’t care if it’s a middle of the night, Yukimura. You will call or else.”

Hyouga’s  speechless so he only nods. Itetsuki-san hesitates again, before he stands up and grabs his bag with a sigh, and says in a slightly softer tone, “And it’s Touma, drop the –san already.”

Hyouga’s breath hitches, then a shaky smile finds its way onto his face, “Touma-kun.”

“ _Touma,”_ he corrects.

Hyouga huffs out a half-laugh, “Touma, it is,” then after a moment, he adds shyly, “It’s fine if you call me Hyouga, too.”

Itetsuki-san—no.

Touma gives him thumbs up, before he leaves the cat café, “See you tomorrow, Hyouga,” he calls over his shoulder.

The use of his name sends weird tingles through Hyouga’s body, but he waves back awkwardly anyways. Beside him, the white cat meows loudly at him.

Hyouga sighs.

Even a cat thinks his social skills are poor.

 

* * *

 

He comes home late and his mother slaps him the second he tries to explain why.

When he gets back into his room, he takes a picture of his red face and the claw marks on his wrist from where his mother grabbed him.

* * *

 

Yukimura Hyouga is not a pushover.

He cries a lot, alone, when nobody is looking; when his parents’ expectations are too much, the pressure of having to make no mistake pressing too heavily on his shoulders; he’s emotional when watching the select few movies he was allowed to; he’s sensitive enough to back down when the situation calls for it, but not meek enough to let someone hurt him.

That’s something he knows he needs to hide. That any second slip in his plan and his parents will notice and Hyouga never realized how scary that thought was until he was forced to confront it.

He’s not a pushover.

But:

He lets his father hit his hands with a ruler until they’re red; he doesn’t protest when they stop giving him pocket money for humming a tune; doesn’t do much when his mother tells him he’s useless, weak, a nobody if he can’t do the x.

Sometimes, his mother slaps him for speaking out. Sometimes, Hyouga flinches away, other times – he doesn’t and has a red mark on his face. It’s not noticeable for everyone. That’s why somebody like Itetsuki-san, no. Touma never saw any bruises.

Because his parents aren’t physical like that. They prefer to cut Hyouga down with their words, make sure he can’t get up after an insult; make sure his self-esteem is low enough that he won’t try to break free.

He remembers that it’s always been like this, but he recalls that it wasn’t until two years ago that things got rough. Hyouga got older, stronger, more ambitious, more talented – they saw that and took it as it was a gift, a sign. They pushed until Hyouga cried, then scolded him for being a crybaby.

They took his talent and made it theirs. That’s why Hyouga hates art, because it’s not his anymore. It’s not – instead they own it now.

He’d never let anyone hurt him – except his parents, apparently.

* * *

 

Once Hyouga kind of gets the snowboard, Touma suggests skiing.

Which ends, as it usually does – in Touma’s form being doubled up from laughter and Hyouga’s ass in the snow, freezing and groaning.

As it turns out, Touma isn’t a fan of neither skiing nor snowboarding which to be completely honest, shocks Hyouga a little, before he remembers that Touma feels the most comfortable on ice, where there’s no snow and where Touma can slide freely. It brings Hyouga to a question as to why he even suggested doing any of those sports.

He voices it one day, but Touma merely glances at him, “Being active is important to you.” And that’s that.

Hyouga doesn’t know why, but somehow, he knows he’s blushing. Next thing he knows, he’s in the snow. Again.

However, a friend of Touma is a fan of skiing and that’s how Hyouga meets Kitaki Tsuneo, who as a greeting, throws a snowball at him. Hyouga can practically feel his face go numb from the cold.

Touma gives the boy a glare, “I told you to take it easy on him,” he chastises.

 Kitaki Tsuneo with long, white hair that covers his right purple-red eye and tan skin, only grins in response, juggling another snowball in his hands, “This is my way of showing affection, don’t you know?”

There’s a beat of silence only interrupted by Hyouga’s cough, “Um…”

“Right! Yukimura, yes?” Hyouga nods, hesitantly, “So, I’ve heard you’re gonna take up skiing?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s great,” he nods to the hillside above them, “It’s been a while since I’ve gone skiing, because the new coach—“

“Coaches,” Touma corrects immediately.

“—new coaches are pushy and I’ve been busy with soccer practice,” Hyouga twitches at the name, but Kitaki Tsuneo doesn’t seem to notice that, “But I can show you a thing or two, so Itetsuki doesn’t die laughing.”

Hyouga deadpans, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

Kitaki Tsuneo is a weird guy, too. He’s not overly enthusiastic, if anything, his face while cheery, is mostly serious and controlled. He teases Hyouga a lot, pushes him, makes him step out of his comfort zone when Hyouga’s half convinced that skiing is not for him and he absolutely cannot slide down this hill, _Kitaki-san, are you insane—?_

He jokes, too. A lot. Touma never laughs, but his eyes glint with amusement.

And then, “You know, your footwork is actually close to Coach Shirou’s.”

Hyouga’s heart stops and he drops his goggles. Touma doesn’t move from his place beside Kitaki-san, but he keeps sending Hyouga looks, ready to step in and Hyouga’s glad, but—

“Oh, that’s nice?” Hyouga answers, “I wonder why.”

Kitaki-san’s eyes narrow, but he still has a smile on, “Then again. Itetsuki is the same. I think—“

“He ice-skates,” Touma cuts in. Hyouga breathes out, relieved as he bends to pick up his goggles.

Kitaki-san blinks, then shrugs, “Must be this. Coach Shirou ice-skates as well, right? Although, Yukimura…”

Hyouga holds his breath.

“… you don’t happen to play soccer on the side, too?”

Hyouga nearly chokes, at the same time his phone rings and he hastily pulls it out, ignoring the way Kitaki-san’s eyes don’t leave his shaking hands – Hyouga blames it on the cold  - and Touma looks ready to throw hands, even if it meant punching Kitaki-san. In a way, Hyouga’s grateful.

That’s it until he sees the caller’s ID.

“I’m sorry,” his own voice sounds distant to him and he takes a few steps back, “I have to answer that.”

Touma waves him off and as Hyouga stands just enough distance from him, he still sees when the boy slaps the back of Kitaki-san’s head with a scowl. Hyouga turns away just as he presses the green button.

His mother’s displeased voice echoes in his mind, “Where are you?”

He feels something tightening around his ribs, squeezing, but he tells himself it’s fine, she’s not there, she can’t possibly know what Hyouga’s doing, he’s _fine_ , “Finishing up on the art assignment the teacher gave us,” he lies and hopes his voice is as steady as he wants it to be.

“Then why do I hear the wind?”

Hyouga closes his eyes and shivers, “We were supposed to draw a winter landscape. I went outside for better reference.”

Not a lie, not entire truth either. Hyouga already gave the teacher said piece of art a week ago, in advance to make sure he has time for occasional hanging out with Touma or his practice in the gym. But she doesn’t need to know it.

His mother’s end is quiet for a second, before she speaks again, “When are you coming home, Hyouga?”

 _Good,_ Hyouga thinks, _she’s not mad anymore. Satisfied_.

“It’s still early, so probably around six,” he replies, hoping she will get the hint, and she won’t question him.

In fact, they seem to trust him more now that Hyouga quit soccer.

“Dinner will be in the fridge,” she says as a way of goodbye and hangs up. Hyouga feels the tension leave and his legs shaky, and it’s only by force that he doesn’t sit down in the snow.

And then his breath hitches in his throat because…

Why?

Why do his mother’s calls scare him so much?

Touma is never worried about his parents getting mad for staying over curfew; he doesn’t get anxious over smallest mistakes like Hyouga and he always said his parents are pretty chill with what he’s doing as long as his grades don’t drop and he’s not in trouble.

If Hyouga’s parents were normal, would he be this scared?

No.

Why is he scared?

And why does it feel like he always was?

“Hyouga?”

There’s a hand on his shoulder and a familiar weight of Touma’s stare on his face and he’s close enough that Hyouga can see emotions practically running in circles in his eyes – worry, concern, then curiosity and finally confusion.

“I’m okay.”

“I didn’t ask,” he mutters out, frowning, “Who was it?”

The name gets stuck in his throat and he swallows.

Is his mom that bad?

What if Hyouga’s—

“Alright. You are NOT fine at all,” Touma comments, then gently but firmly tugs Hyouga against him and starts walking to where Kitaki-san’s waiting for them, “Seriously, quit pretending you’re so composed all the time. I’m not buying that.”

But Hyouga digs his feet into snow and halts them. Touma glances at him questioningly.

“I’m never composed,” Hyouga whispers suddenly.

Touma stares.

“What is that—“

“And I don’t pretend to be fine. I’m never fine and that’s—“

Normal. Usual. Living in fear, sticking to rules, getting sick to stomach when things change, when people manage to see through Hyouga’s practiced smiles and lies.

Hyouga wriggles free from Touma’s grip on his shoulder and takes a step back. He feels dizzy.

Why was it normal?

No.

What _is_ normal? If not this, then what should be?

“Sorry,” he chokes out, “I think I need to—“

“Step out?” Touma suggests, although slowly, as if Hyouga’s behavior is freaking him out, too.

Hyouga nods.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I will—“ he clears his throat and also steps away, “Sorry for grabbing you like this, Hyouga.”

“Don’t mind,” he whispers distantly, but he’s already inching away.

Touma watches him go.

Hyouga doesn’t turn to see the look on his face. He knows he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

* * *

 

Yukine-san and Daiki-san find him like that – on the bench outside the school’s soccer field – and that’s how Hyouga finds out about it.

They are _married._

Somehow, it makes sense at the same time that it _doesn’t._ However, Hyouga’s confusion probably comes from the fact that Hyouga is just naturally suspicious of people and Yukine-san and Daiki-san aren’t bad people. They’re awfully kind and it perplexes Hyouga.

Because people aren’t supposed to be kind. They’re supposed to hurt you, lie to you.

Cut you down with words, not rise you up.

But—

“Hyouga-kun?” Yukine-san doesn’t even hide her smile when she notices him and stops by the bench, “Ah. So you do go to Hakuren, after all.”

Hyouga blinks, then looks at his uniform, “Yes.”

“I would recognize it anywhere,” Daiki-san adds, pointing to Hakuren’s colors, “But I don’t remember seeing you around here before.”

Hyouga looks at both of them, not understanding, before it dawns on him that of course they wouldn’t see him around before, not when Hyouga wasn’t even in that part of Hokkaido. Actually, was he even in Hokkaido before? It’s hard to tell with the amount of times that Hyouga moved houses.

“I recently transferred,” he explains, then his eye catches on Daiki-san’s hand and the ring that shines in the sunlight.

The man notices, of course he does, Hyouga’s not as sly as he wants to be and Daiki-san lifts his hand and smiles at Yukine-san, “We’re married.”

“Oh.”

Yukine-san tilts her head, “Isn’t that fate, then? We were just talking about meeting you earlier.”

Hyouga nods. He knows. It’s actually crazy that he met both of them and never realized it. Even crazier that they remember him.

It’s fine, though. They will forget, eventually. It happens all the time. If he’d still play soccer, he’d say that it will happen sooner than later, but now that he quit, he’s considering the possibility of staying here for more than a month.

Unless he—

He shakes his head.

No. He won’t play soccer.

“Actually, Hyouga-kun,” Yukine-san starts again, this time with a softer tone, “We’re having a dinner, would you like to come?”

“You don’t have classes now, do you?” Daiki-san asks when Hyouga snaps to focus.

“I’m not supposed to talk with strangers,” he blurts out. Daiki-san raises an eyebrow, “I mean—“

“It’s fine if you don’t want to come,” Yukine-san cuts in, not unkindly, “But I noticed you’re just sitting here all alone. I don’t think you actually want to be.”

Hyouga blinks.

Then, he looks away. Why does he even care about the stranger danger anyways? His parents probably wouldn’t even care.

(They’d only care about losing their money income).

“If it’s really okay,” he whispers, glancing at them, “Then I wouldn’t mind.”

The beaming smiles they throw him are worth whatever scolding Hyouga’s going to get later.

* * *

 

His parents aren’t pleased when he comes late. And then it becomes a regular thing. Hyouga’s invited for dinners on Mondays, Wednesdays, and weekends and it’s actually – nice. Nice in a way Hyouga’s own dinners at home alone weren’t.

Hyouga, for once in his life, doesn’t care what his parents think.


	2. you're less of a loser, yukimura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this turned into a novella and i am Not Sorry

He’s at the gym again, and it feels wrong.

He kicks the ball.

It gets into the goal.

He does it again. And again. Until he’s sweaty and his muscles hurt and his hands get shaky, and he doesn’t stop when he feels like he can drop dead any minute.

His mind is racing.

‘Soccer is stupid’.

‘You’re better off doing art’.

‘I know what’s best for you’.

Those thoughts are loud. They scream. They repeat themselves. His mother’s face appears in his mind and mocks Hyouga’s Bs instead of As. His father beats his hands, criticizes him. Sometimes, Hyouga imagines fighting back. Sometimes he gets hit in a face for even speaking out.

Touma asked, “What are you so scared of?”

Hyouga knows.

He pretends he doesn’t, because admitting it makes it more real, but Hyouga is well aware of what holds him back.

He knows.

“I just can’t,” he said back there to Touma.

But that’s a lie, and Hyouga lies all the time; about what he does after school and lies about his parents, but that doesn’t change the truth – it doesn’t and never will change the fact that Hyouga’s terrified of his parents; of what they can do; of what can happen if Hyouga disobeys.

And there’s no real reason.

He kicks the ball. It gets into the goal and Hyouga slumps on the floor, legs giving out on him and he pants. His chest is tight and he thinks it’s over, just like this.

What’s the point?

Why is he even _here…_?

And then, there’s a voice behind him, confused and a little concerned, “Yukimura-kun?”

And Hyouga _flinches_ so hard he falls back on his butt, and wonders how pathetic he looks, with oily hair, puffy eyes and shaking like a leaf just because he cannot handle reality, just because he overworks himself to the point of not being able to stand up. Just how must he look to someone like Risuna Kou?

He looks away.

“What are you doing here?”

Risuna-san blinks and stands there as if unsure how to act and Hyouga feels anger rising inside of him, a flare he tries so hard to hide, because Hyouga _shouldn’t get angry, you have to be perfect, Hyouga, you have to—_

“I forgot to return the spare key,” she says.

Hyouga grits his teeth, “You’re lying,” when she recoils, he lifts his eyes, “Keys are stored in the teachers’ lounge. Not here.”

Risuna-san purses her lips together and sighs, “Alright fine. I’ll tell.”

“Well?”

“I was worried.”

Hyouga blanches at that, “You don’t even know me.”

Risuna-san rolls her eyes, “So?”

Hyouga sputters while she takes a step in his direction, then another, until she’s right in front of him. She sits down, cross-legged and takes a deep breath.

And stays silent.

Hyouga forgets his anger for a hot minute and backs away a little, “You’re either joking or you’re just that weird.”

“That’s not nice, you know?”

“You’re the one who’s worried. Not my problem.”

Risuna-san rests her head on her hand and leans forward, “Yukimura-kun, you’re not used to having friends, are you? Well,” she glances away at the balls near the goal, “I already figured it’s fishy that you always watch our practices but never wanted to join. Is that why Itetsuki-kun is so stressed right now?”

Hyouga’s heart stops for a second, “Stressed?”

Risuna-san lets out a thoughtful hmm and nods, “Or maybe sad. He talked about you a little, you know? When Coach Shirou asked about you. Apparently you met Coach back when you were snowboarding with Itetsuki-san?”

Snowboarding—

Oh.

 _Oh_. So that’s why the man’s face was so familiar.

“Yeah,” he gets out, a little strained. Risuna-san reaches into her messenger bag and hold out a bottle of water, offering it to Hyouga, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” then, she gestures to the balls around them, “So. You do play soccer.”

Panic grips Hyouga and he swallows the water in his mouth before he chokes on it, “No. That’s just—I was bored.”

“Sure,” she comments dryly, “Listen. I don’t know what’s up with you, but you seem like a cool guy and,” she hesitates, “Itetsuki-kun really likes you. So I know you’re good.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I think you really like soccer, Yukimura-kun,” Risuna-san says bluntly and he tightens his fingers on the cap of the water bottle, “I think, that maybe, you even love it. But I watched you kick the ball now and it hurts, doesn’t it? You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“What?”

Risuna-san hesitates, then, “You’re miserable when you play right now. Like it’s hurting you.”

Hyouga’s 100% sure that the gym is warm, but even so, he is freezing. He gulps, placing the water bottle on the ground next to him, “You don’t know me.”

“No. You’re right,” she looks away, “But I’d like to know you. Maybe if you join—“

“No.”

She sighs, “Seriously, what’s your deal?” When Hyouga resigns himself to glaring at her, she continues, “If you want to play, you should. The team would love you. Itetsuki-kun would literally cry in joy—“

“No, he wouldn’t,” Hyouga deadpans.

“He’d cry in his own way,” Risuna-san assures, “And I don’t know what’s stopping you from joining, but I can tell you want to. Why don’t you give it a try?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

Hyouga looks away, “I just can’t.”

“Well,” she frowns at him, “I guess you’re going be miserable like that your whole life then?” Hyouga stills at that. Noticing that, Risuna-san adds, “I know you joined the art club. I know Itetsuki-kun taught you ice-skating. Kitaki-kun helped with skiing. But Yukimura-kun, I can tell that none of those things actually make you happy,” she pauses while Hyouga stands up, “do they?”

“You don’t know me,” he tries to say.

Risuna-san’s red eyes pierce through him, “Do I have to?”

Hyouga looks at her for a long time, before he finally turns away and begins to collect the balls on the field. After a moment, Risuna-san gets up herself and helps him.

At the end, Hyouga packs his things, changes and locks the gym. Risuna-san doesn’t leave until he turns around to face her.

“You know,” she starts, shakes her head as if she thought of something troublesome and lifts her head to properly look him in the eye, “I don’t get you.”

Hyouga only glances at her, “I don’t get you either,” at her raised eyebrows, he shrugs, “You’re always smiling, always so happy. Either you’re pretending or crazy. What does that make you?”

Risuna-san’s face closes off and Hyouga kind of regrets saying that, but he grew up having to see people fake their smiles, their laughs, all to impress someone, to manipulate. He doesn’t like it.

Then again, who is he to judge someone who lies when he’s a liar himself.

“A human being,” she answers.

Hyouga wants to snort, but he only turns his head around, “You came because you’re struggling with something too, didn’t you?” Risuna-san doesn’t answer, so Hyouga continues, “It’s pissing you off that I’m throwing away a chance to play. I don’t get you either, Risuna-san, but I know a face who wants to be free when I see one.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Neither do you,” he shoots back, “From the looks of it, you only recently managed to get out from whatever was stopping you. I know, because you weren’t the manager for the soccer club before. You asked me what’s stopping me. Maybe ask yourself what was stopping you instead.”

In that one moment, Risuna-san’s eyes shine. From tears? From anger? Hyouga doesn’t want to know, so he doesn’t look back.

“We’re not the same,” she still says.

“No one is,” Hyouga answers, “That’s why I think you should stop bothering with trying to get me to play, because I can’t.”

“One match,” words rush out of her mouth just as he moves to walk away, “Come for one match.”

“I already watch—“

“Not like this. As a player.”

Hyouga freezes.

“I said—“

“One. Match,” she insists, and even though she looks concerned about what he told her and it’s obvious she’s not unaffected, it’s clear that she’s determined. Why? He will probably never know, “One match where you play and after that, I won’t ever bother you again. That’s all I ask.”

Hyouga shifts his look to frown at her, “Why?”

* * *

 

Hyouga shows up.

His bangs under his eyes were never that big as they are now, and his Hakuren uniform probably looks ruffled and his hair is kind of messy and he’s jumpy, because if anyone not MEANT to see him sees him, Hyouga is totally done for, but—

He shows up.

Risuna-san immediately flies to his side and latches onto his shoulder and Hyouga in his state doesn’t quite manage to hide the flinch that comes right after. She notices and stops, confused. Hyouga only wriggles free from her grasp and looks at the field where the team is already warming up.

“The match is in an hour,” she informs him and this time, she keeps her distance with an easy smile that Hyouga envies her, “You want to change now?”

He narrows his eyes, “Do your Coaches even know you’re bringing me into this?”

Risuna-san laughs awkwardly, “Uh. Kind of? I told them you’re coming though!”

“Risuna-san…” he starts exasperated.

“Kou, if you please. I don’t like the –san.”

“Kou,” he corrects drily, “What do you mean you kind of told them?”

Risuna—no. _Kou_ shrugs and smiles guiltily, “They’re both pretty chill with things, so it should be alright. Don’t worry.”

“Unless they tell me that face to face, I will just keep doubting you,” Hyouga deadpans.

She looks like she’s ready to protest but once she sees his clenched hands on the bag strap and the way he pointedly glares at her, she gives up and sighs, “Really. It’s fine. I mean, Coach Shirou wanted to meet you either way, and Coach Atsuya, well—“

“Coach Atsuya what, exactly?”

Hyouga startles at the sudden voice, but once he sees the Coach #2 with the orange-ish hair and that posture that makes you think he’s ready to fight any time, he knows there’s no mistaking him for the Coach #1 who was way calmer from the sidelines.

At least, Hyouga hopes for.

“Nothing, Coach!” she waves it off, “Anyways. This is,” she pushes Hyouga in front of her with an excited spark in her eyes, “Yukimura Hyouga, second year. The one I was talking about.”

“Yukimura?” he tests out the name.

The other Coach, Hyouga guesses his name must be Shirou, then? Comes up and smiles down at them, “So we meet again, then.”

Oh right. The snowboarding.

Hyouga nods, although it seems more forced than before, “Right,” he looks to the side, just in time to see Touma running after Kitaki-san after he stole the ball, “Pleasure to meet both of you, really,” he forces out politely.

Kou then coughs, “Then, can Yukimura-kun play in the match?”

Silence that follows is both answer to that question and the question Hyouga asked before.

He grits his teeth, “You didn’t ask before.”

Kou lets out a ‘heh’ and shrugs, “I mean, it’s not—“

“I came because you literally annoyed me into coming here. I don’t even want to play,” that’s a lie, but he’s not going to just admit to that, “and now it’s probably useless I came and risked— Ugh. I’m going back.”

“No, wait!”

“Alright, alright, kids, calm down,” Hyouga glares at him, but Coach Shirou doesn’t even blink, “We knew you were coming, Yukimura-kun, we just didn’t know you wanted to play. If I remember correctly, you joined the art club, didn’t you?”

Hyouga doesn’t look at Kou when she glances at him, “Yes.”

“So I take it you want to take part in match to see if it suits you?”

“No—“ he starts.

“Yes!” Kou cuts in.

Hyouga rolls his eyes, “I just told you I can’t play. I came to get you off my back,” then, he turns to the man, “One match and then I’m out of here. That’s all.”

“Oi, now that’s rude—“ the orange-haired one starts to complain.

“That’s alright.”

“Yes—no, wait what, Aniki! You can’t be serious!”

But it turns out he IS serious, because not long after Hakuren soccer club’s uniform is thrust into his hands and with a pat on his back, he’s sent into the changing room.

It takes him no longer than few minutes to put it on, but when he does, it feels—

Well.

Hyouga isn’t allowed to think about it; he knows he shouldn’t even be here, that it’s risky – that someone could see. Kou might have good intentions, maybe, but it doesn’t mean that his parents wouldn’t—that his parents—

Suddenly, Hyouga feels choked up and his eyes sting. He shoves those thoughts away and touches the material, staring at the glaring blue and white of the shirt, at the number on the back and it’s—

It feels _right._

Right in a way ice-skating, snowboarding and skiing never did.

 And as he exits the changing room, he knows it shouldn’t. But it does. It does and it hurts to be reminded that he’s not allowed to have that.

 

* * *

 

The team is not even planning a strategy – Hyouga thinks that’s stupid for two reasons:

One – they’re playing against Fifth Sector (actually, they shouldn’t do anything, because Fifth Sector controls the game and that’s just the fact).

Two – they’re playing against Hyouga’s former school.

If that isn’t troublesome enough, Coach Atsuya is actually asking Hyouga which position he’d like best and Hyouga’s mind actually halts because he doesn’t— he can’t tell. Or at least, that’s what Hyouga thinks, because his parents told him over and over again that he’s not allowed to speak of soccer, not allowed to LOOK at the soccerball. This now feels like Hyouga’s reaching for a forbidden fruit.

When he stays quiet too long, Coach Atsuya actually sighs, “You’re actually a beginner, huh?”

And Hyouga latches onto that excuse and nods vigorously, “Yes! I don’t know a lot about so—it! Like, at all!” The man raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Hyouga swallows the urge to comment on that and scratches the back of his neck.

And then Touma pushes his way through and stops just the right amount of distance to let Hyouga know that Touma respects his personal space, but that he isn’t going to let him bullshit his way through any longer and Hyouga just shrinks under the look.

Coach Shirou blinks, “Something the matter, Itetsuki?”

Touma doesn’t answer for a moment, glancing at them, before he looks back to Hyouga, “Which one?” he repeats.

Hyouga glances away, “I don’t—I’m a beginner?” it comes out more like a question this time.

And then Touma just _stomps_ onto his foot, not hard enough to injure but hard enough to make Hyouga jump away and yelp, “What the—?!”

“ _Position_ , _Yukimura_.”

Uh huh. Last name, huh?

He glares at the boy and avoids looking at the rest of the team as he mutters out angrily, “A  forward.”

Touma turns to Coach Shirou and the man gives a nod of acknowledgment, although he’s looking at both of them as if they grew two heads. Coach Atsuya just recoils at the news. Hyouga stubbornly refuses to meet anyone’s eyes.

Then, Touma glances at him, “Don’t act like a child.”

“I don’t—“ at the look Touma gives him, Hyouga relents, “Fine.”

“Thanks.”

And that’s that. They don’t talk much after that, but Hyouga can FEEL the eyes on him. And when they finally step onto the field, he also feels the eyes of the team he played before he came to Hakuren. It’s discouraging. It’s annoying.

It’s thrilling.

Hyouga doesn’t dwell on it.

Actually, Hyouga doesn’t DO much. He can’t do much, and he isn’t allowed to. But there’s also a third reason and it’s because the team already developed its style and technique and even though Hyouga’s been watching them since the beginning, he has trouble applying his knowledge to the field.

For example, Touma’s strength is his speed and he’s using it, but Kitaki-san’s strength is his strong kick and he’s not always able to pass to him properly. Those are the little things that Hyouga can’t help but notice and he could point them out, but at the same time, as he glances at the men on the sidelines, it feels like THEY already know that too.

If so, what are they waiting for?

It’s possible one of the players could fill that hole. Someone who’s fast so he can match up to Touma and one whose aim isn’t bad so he can accurately pass to both of them and act like a link. But Hyouga doesn’t know them that much – he doesn’t know who that player could be.

He can’t even fit in to the rhythm of the team, how could he even—

“Hyouga!”

And the ball gets passed to him anyways. It feels like a bad dream, except Hyouga doesn’t wake up in sweat and with tears running down his face. Instead, he’s able to kick the ball WITH someone and he’s not alone and—

It shouldn’t feel this right. Like he said, it’s not—It isn’t supposed to be like THIS.

He doesn’t even get to kick it closer to goal when the familiar flash of red cuts through his vision and he’s forced to take a step back with the ball between his legs.

“Long time no see, Yukimura,” drawls out the boy in front of him.

 “Have fun playing like a big cheat, Kiyoshi?” he asks after a second, before he tries dribbling past him. It doesn’t work, so Hyouga once again retreats.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Kiyoshi snorts, “Did mommy and daddy let you play?” Hyouga freezes, but Kiyoshi continues, “Well. Nevermind that, Hakuren is weak and soon, Fifth Sector will take over it anyways.”

Hyouga kicks the ball out of bounds just as the whistle announces the end of the first half and goes to sit on the bench. When Kou gives him a bottle of water, he pretends he’s not actually trying to not snap something in anger.

Suddenly, Hyouga REALLY wants to play seriously.

It’s when Coach Atsuya decides enough is enough that Hyouga lifts his eyes to glare at him, too, even though he doesn’t know the guy but he knows it’s not the man’s fault Hyouga has to deal with arrogant SEED.

“So who was he?”

“No one.”

Coach Atsuya hums, “Right… And that’s why you’re so pissed. Because he’s no one.”

“You’re not my coach,” Hyouga shoots back, “I don’t need to tell you anything, sir.”

But this time, Coach Atsuya’s eyes harden and he looks serious for a minute, “You put on this uniform and as long as you wear it, I’m your coach and you’re my disciple. So yeah. You don’t need to tell me stuff, but knowing if you’re in danger would be nice.”

Hyouga’s mouth snaps shut and he only huffs, looking away, “Whatever.”

It seems to satisfy the man, so Hyouga doesn’t mention how it’s not fair – that Hyouga really doesn’t belong there and Coach Atsuya can stick his morals up his ass or offer his half-hearted lies to someone who actually needs it.

But then he feels angry.

At Hakuren, at the Coaches, and Kou. But more importantly, he feels angry at Kiyoshi for ever doubting Hakuren when Hyouga knows the best how hard they’ve worked to be on the level they are NOW.

So as soon as he steps out on the field again, there’s no more Yukimura Hyouga who keeps silent and draws for his parents. There’s Yukimura Hyouga who plays soccer and won’t let someone take away the joy of playing it in the first place.

Everyone notices the change and the way Hyouga actually assists them with plays and the way he keeps stealing the ball. They don’t comment on that, but they’re moving smoother and quicker. It’s amazing until Kiyoshi tries to trip them up and send them flying.

That’s where Hyouga draws a line.

Soccer is not meant to hurt.

He steals the ball from Kiyoshi.

Soccer is meant to be fun; to connect people.

“Oi! Hyouga!”

Hyouga passes to Touma without hesitation and thinks about what this one match will cost him and if anyone will find out that Hyouga’s actually a big coward and a liar; he wonders what Touma would think if he knew; he wonders if people like Coach Atsuya and Coach Shirou would want someone like Hyouga on the field.

When the ball is passed back to him, Hyouga knows this is one match and it’s his first at Hakuren, but also the last.

And he knows by the time he steps out of the field, he will be back to drawing; to obeying his parents and only watching from the sidelines while Hakuren kids are laughing.

It’s his last chance.

After that, after getting to know this feeling, Hyouga knows he has to leave it and never bring out again.

The second half is nearing the end and Hyouga has the ball.

And it’s the only time Hyouga will have the chance to have the ball and be able to wipe the smug look from Kiyoshi’s face, so he stops in front of the goal and despite the pounding of his heart calls out to his Avatar - Abounding Snowfall Saia that he found out about only week ago.

For a moment, he imagines how sad that is – that Saia will be able to play in the match only once and never again. But he squishes the thought and kicks up the ball and shoots Icicle Road at the goalkeeper.

He scores. The whistle blows.

Kiyoshi’s face falls and is quickly replaced with anger.

And Hyouga – despite the fact that if his parents saw that, he’d be probably dead or yelled at – smiles sadly, pride and satisfaction trying to overcome the feeling of utter failure, knowing it’s only this moment that Hyouga is allowed to have. Only one.

Then, Kiyoshi moves to stand in front of him and looks at him so coldly it actually makes Hyouga want to flinch away. For a second, he thinks he’s going to get hit, but then, “What would your mother say about that, Yukimura?” he asks mockingly.

Just like that any joy Hyouga might have felt from shooting the ball into the goal disappears into thin air and the world becomes a little too loud and a little too quiet at the same time, while Kiyoshi’s smirk burns a hole into Hyouga’s chest.

“Shut up,” he snaps but Kiyoshi never listened; never cared about hurting people.

“Ah, I know. That her _talented_ son shouldn’t even touch the ball, isn’t it right?” Kiyoshi leans forward and Hyouga feels trapped, like the air is too dry and he can’t breathe in, “What happened to that, huh? Did she finally got fed up with you?”

“Shut. Up,” he hisses out and tries to look past his shoulder, wanting to shout out to Touma, but his voice can’t get through and Hyouga can’t move – but if he could, he’d be reaching out his hand towards him; he’d be begging Touma to not leave him, because the longer he stares at the boy’s back, the farther he seems to get.

“Is that all you can say? Pathetic.”

“What, are you jealous?”

“Of what? Of being a _mommy’s boy_?” Hyouga can’t hide the flinch this time, Kiyoshi’s lips turn upwards even more, “Of being a coward? Of leaving the team and obeying a woman, who doesn’t give a shit about you, like _a dog_?”

“Stop it. That’s not true—“

Kiyoshi looks at him, disgusted, “Look around, Yukimura. If they really cared about you, would they make you stop playing?”

Hyouga stills.

Kiyoshi snorts, “I feel sorry for you, you know? You’re doing all you can to please them but you don’t see that it’s worthless to them. Are you blind?” Hyouga stares at him blankly, “You’re _nothing_ to them.”

Then, there’s a voice calling both of their names. None of them move.

Hyouga feels cold, but the gym is warm; maybe it’s the chill from Kiyoshi’s glare.

“What’s the point of telling me this?” he finally asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Kiyoshi gives him an unimpressed look, “What’s the point of playing that one match? You won. I want to beat you fair and square, isn’t that enough of a reason?” he shrugs, “You’re not the only one who changed.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Everything hurts, Hyouga doesn’t understand why, but he still asks, “Not a Fifth Sector’s fan anymore, are you? Then why are you acting like one?”

Kiyoshi rolls his eyes, “Get your act together, Yukimura and stop being pussy.”

Hyouga glares at him, “Who’re you calling pussy, you jerk?”

“Yukimura! Kiyoshi! What are you two doing?”

Hyouga looks over to see Kiyoshi’s coach waving at them, and Coach Shirou sending them both worried glances. He glances away, feeling weird. Why would Coach Shirou be worried if he doesn’t even know Hyouga that well?

“Well. I’m going,” Kiyoshi mutters out, annoyed, “You better stop listening to those assholes at home, though.”

“They’re my _parents,_ ” Hyouga stresses out.

Kiyoshi gives him a weird look, “So? You’re their kid and they treat you like trash if you so much as look in the other direction.”

Hyouga doesn’t have a reply to that and allows Kiyoshi to slowly walk away. The second Kiyoshi stands next to the team’s new captain, the taller boy ruffles his hair. Then, their coach pats his back. Hyouga stands there, like paralyzed, and watches it happen. Then he brings his hand up to rest on his heart, feeling a pang in his chest.

He remembers then, what Kou said.

_‘You asked me why I was scared.  It was because I didn’t know freedom and I didn’t know if I could handle it. Once you know it, you’ll be always terrified of someone taking it away.’_

Freedom, such a funny thing.

He thinks he understands now, though. Once you’re free you realize that being in a cage doesn’t protect you – it protects the one who put you in one. You never want to feel that trapped again once you get a glimpse of what freedom is like.

He lets his hand fall limp at his side.

As he remembers the goal he made today and the cheer from the Hakuren team, he wonders if that’s what being free feels like.

 

* * *

 

 

Hyouga comes over on Saturday for dinner at Yukine-san’s and Daiki-san’s place. His parents were frank with him earlier, that he’s got the whole day free for himself (he doesn’t know why and for what purpose, he’s usually supposed to stay at home and practice till his hand wants to fall off), so he decided it’s the best time to actually get out of the house and not sulk after the soccer match.

However, the moment he passes the threshold, Yukine-san’s usual smile on her face and a warm hand on his back, Hyouga quickly realizes he’s not the only one visiting. That halts him and Yukine-san sends him a questioning look, before she, too, seems to notice that they’re not really alone with Daiki-san this time.

“Ah, right! Hyouga-kun, I forgot to tell you,” she gently pushes him forward and he still stumbles, “Atsuya and Shirou had a free day so I thought I’d invite them, too.”

Hyouga blinks. Across the room, Coach Atsuya gapes at him and Coach Shirou sits wide-eyed.

“Your name is… Fubuki, Yukine-san?” Hyouga stutters out before Yukine-san basically manhandles him into one of the chairs next to Daiki-san by the small table that’s located by the fireplace, “Daiki-san? What—?”

Then, Hyouga actually looks around and only now, he sees that all the framed pictures are either pictures of Coach Atsuya and Shirou as kids or photos of them as adults with some other people Hyouga never really saw around here.

It would make sense.

But at the same time, it just _doesn’t_. Because how is that even possible? That kind of coincidence?

“Uh. Mom? Why is the midget here?” Coach Shirou sends Coach Atsuya an exasperated look, while the orange-haired man throws his hands up, dramatically, “I mean, you don’t actually know him, right? We’ve only met him, like, once.”

“Hyouga-kun—“

“Oh, so even a first name basis?” Coach Atsuya looks at them, ridiculous. Hyouga hunches his shoulders.

“—is a lovely young boy that helped me with my groceries that one time,” Yukine-san sits down herself and puts a hand on Hyouga’s ducked head, “The one I told you about.”

Coach Shirou perks up, “Oh. That means you’ve met him too, right Dad?”

“On the playground.”

“What were you even doing on the playground?” Coach Atsuya asks and Hyouga knows it’s meant as a joke, or maybe a taunting, but he can’t make himself look up. Yukine-san frowns at him.

 _A burden,_ he thinks then _, I’m a burden and I’m imposing and I’m—_

“Playing soccer,” Daiki-san answers casually as he takes his ball of rice.

Hyouga freezes and this time looks up only to send the man a spooked look, “I wasn’t—I just—“

“Found a ball?” Daiki-san asks and Hyouga manages a nod, “Well. It looked like you wanted to play.”

 _I did,_ Hyouga thinks.

He always does. Whether he’s in class, or ice-sating, or skiing, or snowboarding. He wants to play. He wants to kick the ball. There’s not a minute, an hour, a day where Hyouga doesn’t desire what Touma and the others have now, despite the Fifth Sector’s tight control.

Hyouga keeps quiet and averts his look. Yukine-san’s hand doesn’t slip from his hair, but instead, it strokes it gently. Hyouga doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t question it either. He stopped second-guessing her a long time ago.

“Come to think of it,” Coach Shirou speaks up after they all start on their food, “The way you played—“

Hyouga stubbornly focuses on chewing the rice in his mouth.

“Oh yeah,” Coach Atsuya says around a mouthful of fish, “You ain’t a beginner. Risuna told us you were, but—“

“Hyouga-kun,” Yukine-san cuts into, and Hyouga gulps down, “I hope they didn’t force you to play, though.”

“Well…”

“Atsuya! Don’t tell me you told him to play.”

“Why does every bad thing gets blamed on me?” Coach Atsuya whines, “I didn’t! That Risuna kid did, right, Aniki?”

Coach Shirou takes a sip of his tea and nods, “So we’ve heard,” he looks to Hyouga who’s trying to make himself smaller with each second, “Why though?”

Hyouga doesn’t pick up his chopsticks this time. He feels mildly sick, “I don’t know.”

Coach Atsuya deadpans, “I call bull—“ At Yukine-san’s hard gaze, he backtracks, “—crap. There’s a reason you came at all. You could’ve just ignored her, like everyone else when she gets crazy ideas.”

Shirou scowls at him, “Atsuya!”

“You know it’s true!”

Daiki-san glances at Hyouga, then noticing the paleness on his face and the way he pushed away the plate with food, he coughs to gather their attention. Immediately, Coach Atsuya’s eyes fly to him and Coach Shirou puts away his mug. Yukine-san also blinks at him.

“I think whether Hyouga-kun wants to play soccer and why he apparently came for the match at the request of his friend, is Hyouga-kun’s business and no one else’s,” Daiki-san levels Coach Atsuya with a stern look, “We invited him for dinner not to pester him about it.”

Coach Atsuya huffs, while Coach Shirou looks embarrassed, “Right.”

“In any case,” Daiki-san turns to Hyouga, “I do think that this soccer match did you good. You wanted to play, didn’t you?”

Hyouga shrugs, pretends that he isn’t choked up and uncomfortable, “Maybe. I don’t play anymore.”

Ah.

Right.

But why did he even stop? Because he thought his parents would change? Why? Why did Hyouga stop?

For them.

But why?

Everything’s the same, except that this time, his parents are only nice when he draws; when he obeys. Things are better because they give him pocket money, praise him and talk to him. The thing is – it’s only because he doesn’t play. When he brings up soccer, it’s always negative reaction at the end.

Or when he stays out late saying he’s helping a friend – he’s met with ‘you don’t need friends!’; and when he’s trying to hint at starting playing violin again, his mother narrows her eyes and her hand raises so slightly it’s almost unnoticeable. And Hyouga thought it was better – that it IS better this way, but he starts to realize now, looking at Yukine-san and Daiki-san, that it’s not better.

Hyouga just stopped noticing how bad his parents are – and his parents tried more to hide how bad they were.

It hurts. And Hyouga feels sick, knowing that. His eyes sting.

He thinks of Kou, how she told him of freedom; he thinks of Kitaki-san and how cheerful he was talking to Hyouga; he thinks of Touma and how he offered him friendship despite Hyouga having nothing except terrible experiences to give in return; then lastly, he thinks of Kiyoshi who told him Hyouga’s just a blind idiot.

So many hints and yet Hyouga still lies to himself.

Then, Hyouga’s phone rings and he startles so bad the chopsticks he was holding fall on the table. He glances, a little panicked at Yukine-san, but the woman only shakes her head, picking them up and smiles, “Go ahead. It’s your parents calling, right?”

So Hyouga takes out his phone, excuses himself and goes into the corridor to answer. The moment he presses the green button, his mother’s cold voice comes through and it feels like Hyouga’s not there, not with the Fubuki family – he’s back where the white walls and forced smiles are.

“Hyouga, you’re there?”

“Hi, Mom,” he forces out, a little strained.

She picks up on it, but it’s clear she can’t even bother what’s wrong. Hyouga thinks it’s stupid that he even expected that in the first place, “Where are you? You aren’t at home, I can tell.”

“A friend’s house,” a practiced lie comes through, “Finishing a group project.”

“Good boy,” she praises, “Always so hard-working.”

He clenches his flingers in the material of his old grey hoodie and tries to imagine what it mean – is it really a praise or is there something hidden underneath. And then, he doesn’t have to wonder. As soon as he starts to ask, “Then, why are you calling?” his mother cuts in with a:

“You’re a dirty liar, aren’t you, Hyouga?”

The scariest part is that her voice doesn’t change. It’s still the same cold pleasant voice that makes Hyouga want to hide; to flinch. It’s fake. It’s terrifying.

He feels even sicker. Like there’s something pulling at his chest, and his legs are weak and he doesn’t know what she knows, but it can’t be good. It can’t be, and so Hyouga slowly slides down the wall, not caring how pathetic it would look if Yukine-san or Daiki-san saw that. He doesn’t even know how he’d explain that.

“W-what do you mean, Mom?” he asks, words hardly audible, “I am at—“

“Was it fun?” she asks, “I hope it was. I called the school, Hyouga, that time. There was no winter landscape assignment. You were staying late at the gym, too. Tell me, _honey,”_ Hyouga trembles as if she was right there, smiling at him, cruelly digging her long nails in the skin of his arm, “Was it fun?”

Hyouga realizes that he can’t speak, fear paralyzing him. His mother waits a minute, before there’s a ‘tch!’ echoing through the phone, “I see. That’s how you play, huh? We gave you so much and yet you still go and think we’re monsters.”

He breathes out, shakily.

“No,” it’s close to whimper. His mother doesn’t answer to that.

“Well. It doesn’t matter now,” she says clipped, “I called to tell you your father and I are going on a business trip.”

Hyouga tries to focus, “For how long?”

“Depends. You’re responsible, aren’t you, Hyouga? I’m sure you can handle yourself for few months.”

“Month—“

“The worst case scenario is a year,” she continues, unbothered of how much her words actually hurt, “We’ll be sending you money, so you don’t need to worry about that, either.”

“But—“

“We wrote you a note,” she says, “Make sure to read it and call us after.”

The phone goes silent. Hyouga tries to breathe in, but it’s hard, as if the air was too dry or maybe it’s Hyouga’s lungs that don’t want to work. Either way, he grasps at his chest, feeling it tighten, and the phone falls on the floor.

He doesn’t cry. He thinks he can’t.

“Hyouga-kun? We bought cake, would you like—?” Hyouga’s head snaps up when Yukine-san comes through the door and halts when she sees him, “Hyouga-kun? What’s wrong, are you feeling sick?”

Hyouga shakes his head and tries to speak, but he finds out that he still can’t, so he wipes at his face, knowing it’s not completely dry even though he’s not full sobbing.

He wants to go home. He doesn’t even know where home is anymore.

Yukine-san is stunned for a second, before she takes a step, then another, until she’s kneeling in front of him, hand hesitating for a second before she places it on Hyouga’s own, shaking one, “How can I help?”

Hyouga doesn’t know. He shakes his head again, while hiding it behind his arm.

Yukine-san  purses her lips, then, “Would you like a hug?”

That’s that.

Hyouga thinks that’s a strange thing to offer. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was hugged or when he even asked for one. Hugging his mother felt like hugging a rock; his father never let Hyouga get too close, preferring his own space.

Yukine-san…

Yukine-san is too kind. Offering something like this.

The surprise must have showed on his face, because the woman looks pained a little, maybe hurt, over Hyouga thinking it’s a bother. Hyouga doesn’t completely understand that yet, maybe one day he will.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Yukine-san says, “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what happened, then?”

Hyouga kind of shuts down at this, eyes wide and wipes aggressively the stray tears that made their way down his face, “No, it’s—I’m okay.”

Yukine-san’s expression darkens. Hyouga thinks he saw it somewhere before. But then she sighs, obviously not going to press for more. Hyouga doesn’t know if he’s glad for that or disappointed. He settles for a mix of both.

“Okay,” she allows, the hand that was squeezing Hyouga’s letting up and Hyouga doesn’t think when he accidentally reaches out after it. It’s a stupid, childish reaction, but Hyouga can’t help it and he instantly tries to cover it up with a cough.

Then, he stands up, slowly and reaches out to pick up his phone. Yukine-san is still looking at him, and she doesn’t even try to hide the worried frown.

“I uh,” he stumbles on his words, “I should get going.”

“It’s still early,” she says, looking at the clock, “Did your parents tell you to come home early?”

Hyouga has a lie on the tip of his tongue, before his shoulders slump and he looks down on the floor, as if the carpet made from a bear’s skin was the most interesting thing in the world and it’s hard to say, really, if he hesitates because he doesn’t want Yukine-san to know, or if he doesn’t want to admit it out loud.

“They,” he swallows, “They’re on a business trip.”

Yukine-san stiffens. Hyouga doesn’t need to look at her face to know she wasn’t expecting an answer like this.

Then, Daiki-san peeks around the corner, “What’s that about business trip?” he looks at Hyouga, noting the way he seems to shrink on himself, “And what’s taking you both so long? Atsuya wants to eat all the cookies again.”

Yukine-san stays quiet for a moment, then in a serious, but careful voice he hasn’t heard from her before, asks, “Hyouga-kun. How long are they on that business trip?”

Hyouga hugs himself, then answers in a whisper, “Months or so. Didn’t tell.”

The silence that follows is heavy and Daiki-san looks between them, not understanding.

“That’s not—“ Yukine-san starts, then angrily trails off, “Hyouga-kun, don’t tell me you’re okay with this. That’s not—“

“Normal?” Hyouga asks quietly, “Nice? Responsible?”

“Human,” Yukine-san breathes out, “You’re just a kid.”

“Can someone explain what’s going on here?” Daiki-san asks, but he gets ignored when Yukine-san takes Hyouga by his arm and pulls gently towards the living room again.

“Later, dear,” she answers and only when Daiki-san looks at  him, Hyouga realizes that the man is worried, too.

For the love of God, Hyouga can’t figure out why.

There’s a lot of things Hyouga doesn’t know, actually – like why Yukine-san invites Hyouga for dinners and lets him help in the garden and if Hyouga’s lucky, she tells him of her previous hunts; why Daiki-san is so gentle, yet stern in his beliefs and doesn’t let Hyouga’s thoughts stray too far, always managing to bring him back with a simple conversation; why those two people are so kind to such a bad person like Hyouga.

He lets those things be, because he knows they won’t last – they never did, but he begins to wonder, what would happen if they don’t leave. If Hyouga doesn’t cling to Yukine-san’s scarf back at home, not giving it back if only to have a reason to come back here.

Hyouga doesn’t let himself dream, but he allows Yukine-san to sit him back in the living room between Coach Atsuya and Coach Shirou. (Actually, should he even add the “Coach” at the beginning when he’s not even a part of the soccer club?) And she disappears into the kitchen.

“That was weird,” _Atsuya-san?_ Atsuya-san, Hyouga decides in the end, comments, before he glances at Hyouga, “Did something happen?”

“Nothing.”

Shirou-san peers at Hyouga, “Doesn’t sound like nothing. Are you alright?”

Oh.

Are they—

“Fine,” Hyouga squeaks out, unfamiliar with that much attention, “It’s fine.”

“If you say so,” Atsuya-san says unconvinced, before he leans forward to grab more cookies from the plate on the table, “Anyways. We never finished our conversation about you totally not being a newbie at soccer.”

“Sounded more like a interrogation to me, sir,” Hyouga mutters out, a little bitterly, but he keeps his eyes on Daiki-san who stands in front of the bookcase, looking for a certain book, probably, if only to keep himself calm, “But what do I know, huh.”

Atsuya-san pauses with a cookie halfway into his mouth, “I thought you’re quiet, not sassy.”

Hyouga spots a coconut cookie and takes it, “I’m both.”

Atsuya-san looks mildly off-put. Shirou-san smiles, “I can see why Itetsuki-kun likes you so much now, Yukimura.”

Hyouga chokes on the cookie. Startled, Atsuya-san hits him on the back and Hyouga with tears in the eyes glances at concerned Shirou-san with a weird expression, “Pardon me?”

Shirou-san blinks, “Itetsuki-kun. He likes you.”

“As a friend.” Hyouga tells him

“…yes.”

The answers is slow and hesitant and Hyouga feels like there’s more to that, but he lets it be as soon as Yukine-san appears in the doorway again. She sits down in front of them and sighs when she sees Hyouga looking at her warily, “I’m not mad at you, Hyouga-kun.”

Hyouga returns his eyes to Daiki-san on the other side of the room again, “I know, Yukine-san.”

“However, I am mad at your parents,” Hyouga doesn’t answer, but he stiffens at that, “I’m sorry if you don’t want anyone else to know, but when Atsuya and Shirou were young Dai-chan and I would never let them be alone for more than couple of minutes if we could help it. They were times when they were left alone, of course, but—”

“It’s because Atsuya would get stupid ideas,” Daiki-san adds in from his place under the bookcase.

Atsuya-san sputters, offended. Shirou smiles grimly.

Yukine-san continues, Hyouga still can’t look at her, “I want you to know, Hyouga-kun, that what you just told me isn’t normal. It’s neglectful.”

Hyouga feels something tighten in his chest, but he squishes it down and hides it behind anger,  “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine on my own.”

“Hyouga-kun—“

“I’m fine,” he insists, “I’m sorry, but I don’t need your pity, Yukine-san.”

“That’s the point!” her voice raises slightly and Hyouga automatically looks back to her, alerted, “You shouldn’t be fine. You’re a child. You’re fifteen.”

“Old enough to handle myself.”

“No.” Yukine-san shakes her head, “Old enough to _know_ how to handle yourself. Too young to start doing that.”

Hyouga keeps quiet, words burning his lips and there are angry retorts on the tip of his tongue, insults that aren’t justified in a slightest, because after all, Yukine-san wants the best for him, she’s caring and thoughtful, Hyouga knows she doesn’t mean bad for him. Even if he’s just a kid who comes over for dinner sometimes. Even if he technically shouldn’t matter.

Even so. Hyouga can’t let her do that.

“Thank you,” he says, getting up under Atsuya-san’s and Shirou-san’s watchful gazes, “But I’m fine.”

Yukine-san looks after him, pained. Daiki-san pauses in his search and looks at Hyouga gathering his things. Hyouga thinks the man will not speak. He does.

“I heard you’ve used an Avatar in that match.”

Hyouga halts, almost by the exit of the living room, with his back towards the man, “So?”

“By this point, it’s scientifically proven that Avatars are a physical manifestation of one’s soul,” Daiki-san says and it feels important, so Hyouga listens, “Someone who thinks soccer is so boring, wouldn’t be able to use one,” Hyouga clenches his fists, ready to continue walking, when Daiki-san’s voice changes into something more firm, “Moreover, someone who’s weak and cowardly, wouldn’t be able to muster out an energy to unlock one.”

Hyouga’s hands go limp.

Daiki-san turns back to his bookcase, “I thought you’d like to know that.”

Yukine-san stares at her husband, not understanding. Atsuya-san follows her eyes, but Shirou-san carefully watches Hyouga’s shocked face, before it morphs into something painful and forced and Hyouga gets out of the Fubuki house not long after that.

 

* * *

 

Coming home has never felt so wrong as it has now and no more than two days later, Hyouga starts doing more and more after school, just so he could avoid that. Usually, he stays back later at the gym at school; sometimes he even volunteers to help teachers – Yamada-sensei is pleasantly surprised by his eagerness but she doesn’t complain.

Then, the Holy Road is announced.

Hyouga thinks nothing of it and comes to watch the soccer club practice as usual, never once stopping to think it through, even if the mere sight of a ball gives him a headache and a pang in the chest. Apparently, Hyouga just can’t quit it entirely.

However, Holy Road is a big deal. This year, that is, or at least that’s what Hyouga hears when he comes down to buy himself a bottle of water.

“Raimon is starting a revolution, right?” a girl whose name Hyouga doesn’t know, asks.

Hyouga stands in front of vending machine, ready to come back up, but stops as soon as he notices the familiar blonde hair and red eyes.

“Mhm, that’s what Coach Shirou said,” Kou answers, “Apparently, they’re ready to take down Fifth Sector.”

The other girl worries her lip, “Won’t they just get fired? Coach Shirou and Coach Atsuya?”

Kou pauses in whatever she’s doing and hums, “Maybe. They said we shouldn’t worry about that.”

“Why?”

“Because Coach Atsuya would throw a temper tantrum and no one wants that. At least that’s what Coach Shirou says,” Kou explains then laughs, “I really think those two will stick around.”

Hyouga doesn’t listen after that and turns around, ready to keep watching the team from the above and wait until they all tire themselves out and go home, when he collides with someone and falls flat onto his butt with a soft “oh”.

“Sorry,” comes amused voice, “You’re so short I didn’t see you there.”

Hyouga glares at Atsuya-san, then picks himself up and dusts off his back. The man doesn’t move to walk away, so for a minute they both stand there, awkwardly looking at each other. When Hyouga doesn’t speak, Atsuya-san sighs and crosses his arms, “Alright, I’ll bite. What are you doing here?”

“What I always do,” Hyouga answers, deflecting. Atsuya-san narrows his eyes.

“And that is?”

Hyouga smiles nastily, “None of you business, sir.”

Atsuya-san’s eyes darken to almost forest green, maybe in anger, maybe in annoyance. Hyouga would lean towards the latter – after all, Hyouga’s been told by many that he’s an eyesore. He goes to pass the man, when he sees someone else walking towards them.

Hyouga stops.

Touma halts.

They stare.

Atsuya-san blinks, then coughs, “Sorry, do you two have a secret vendetta against each other?” Hyouga startles and shakes his head, Touma glances at the man, “That’s what it looked like, Itetsuki. Don’t give me that look.”

Said look meant Touma glaring at Hyouga and looking him over, as if searching for injuries. Hyouga shifts on his feet and gulps, “Hi,” he says quietly.

That’s all it takes for Touma to cross the distance between them and grab Hyouga by the shoulders, hands all over Hyouga’s body and eyes almost black from unhidden displeasure and something Hyouga’s hesitant to name. Atsuya-san fidgets in his place, uncomfortable – Hyouga thinks the man doesn’t do well with intimate situations.

Well. It’s not like they told him to stand there and watch.

Finally, Touma stops and breathes out, almost relieved, “Don’t ‘hi’ me, Hyouga. Seriously, where the hell have you been?”

“Uh. Home.”

Touma glares, “You could have said something. After the match, I didn’t see you for days.”

Hyouga tries to cover up his surprise with a helpless shrug, “Sorry.”

The boy stares at him, as if looking for a trace of lie or a half-truth. When he finds none, he relaxes slightly, but still keeps a hand on Hyouga’s shoulder. The gesture is comforting, even though Hyouga doesn’t understand why. Maybe that’s just Touma’s presence that reassures him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt such a touching reunion,” Atsuya-san drawls out sarcastically, making Touma rolls his eyes and step away. Hyouga mourns the warmth that disappeared with that, “But practice is starting and if you rascals want a chance to win the Holy Road, you’d better not slack off.”

Hyouga looks away, “I better go, then,” he mumbles out.

Touma snorts, “No one tells you to go, loser.” At Hyouga’s shudder, he adds, “Everyone knows you watch from the stands above. If you want to have a closer look, no one will have a problem with that.”

“I’d rather not,” he says, eyes looking pointedly at Atsuya-san.

Touma follows his gaze, then smirks, “Coach Atsuya usually yells from the side of the field, if you’re worried about him annoying you—“

“Watch it, brat.” Atsuya-san cuts in.

“—so you’d be stuck with Coach Shirou by the bench,” Touma peers at Hyouga when he ducks his head to look elsewhere, “Coach Shirou is cool and he doesn’t talk much,” then after a moment, “He’d like a second pair of eyes, if anything else.”

Hyouga’s first instinct is to say ‘no’ to anything soccer related, but with his parents gone on a business trip and the hollow silence of the house, he’d rather break their rules than sit alone and do homework.

He’d probably regret it.

For the second time in his life, he doesn’t care.

Touma’s gaze is still piercing through him when Hyouga nods, “If that’s alright with all of you.”

“Great,” Touma comments, once again grabbing Hyouga, gentle yet firm, so different than Hyouga’s mother’s lithe hands digging into his skin, and drags him towards the entrance to the gym, “Oi, Coach! You said not to slack off!” he calls over his shoulder when Atsuya-san drags a palm through his face.

“Itetsuki, I swear to God, if you don’t stop being a smartass—“

“Yes, yes!”

* * *

 

Kou almost tackles him when she sees him. Hyouga is not surprised, but he’s not entirely comfortable with that either.

She sees that – whatever it is that Hyouga is feeling – and leaves him be as Hyouga takes his seat on the bench, feeling out of place and pretty much useless while the others on the field warm up. It sets a pang in Hyouga’s chest, and even if he pretends to not know why that is, he realizes very quickly that there’s no use hiding that.

After all, Hyouga never stopped wanting to play soccer.

Shirou-san notices him then, when he sees Hyouga longingly looking at the ball, hands clenched on the lime colored material of the Hakuren uniform. Hyouga thinks he’s not going to say anything, the man is supposed to watch over the team after all. But then he sits down next to Hyouga when Kou moves to prepare the water bottles.

There’s a beat of silence, then, “How are you?”

If there was anything Hyouga expected from that man, that was not it. Not after Hyouga stormed off like a childish and pathetic person he is; certainly not after Shirou-san and Atsuya-san found out that Hyouga’s been hanging out with their parents. Who would even want to keep contact like this?

Apparently, Fubuki Shirou is not a man who resigns someone’s case that quickly.

“Fine.”

Shirou-san almost smiles, but it’s sad and wrong to see on a face of someone who’s usually so peaceful and composed, “Ah. I guess I deserve that, huh? We don’t know each other that well.”

Hyouga glanced at him, but the man is looking at where Atsuya-san is barking out instructions. Hyouga sees Touma rolling his eyes every time.

Hyouga can’t help but smile at the boy. Well. It’s not like the other can see.

He looks back at Shirou-san, “He’s doing well, isn’t he? Touma, I mean.”

Shirou-san’s eyes glance at the boy in question and the smile that was sad before turns into something happier, prouder. Hyouga wonders if that’s how his mother would look, if she was genuine towards Hyouga.

“He is,” he confirms, “Actually, I don’t know if he told you this, but he’s the reason we’re here. Atsuya and I.”

Hyouga frowns, “What do you mean, sir?”

Shirou-san isn’t looking at him, but he’s not entirely focused on what’s here and now, either. It’s like he’s watching something inside of his mind, something old and precious. It makes his eyes sparkle, in a way. Hyouga thinks it’s a nice sight.

“We met before, Yukimura. When Itetsuki and you were trying out snowboard, isn’t it?” Hyouga nods, hesitant, “He must have recognized me from the news – they were quite loud about where Atsuya and I were going for retirement.”

Hyouga notes it down for research later, then recalls the incident briefly.

 _‘Fubuki Shirou-san, am I right?’_ Touma has asked then, but Hyouga didn’t know what it was all about.

“He came to me, then,” Shirou-san continues, “I didn’t know Fifth Sector was slowly taking over the soccer world, Atsuya and I were too busy with our lives to notice. When we retired, it seems that Itetsuki thought we can help with that. So he came to me to ask a favor.”

“He asked you to be the coach.”

“Us.”

Hyouga’s eyes drift to search for the orange-haired man. Instead, he finds Kitaki-san and Kou talking on the side. He lets out a breath, “Sounds like him.”

Then, he looks down, “Why did you accept?”

Shirou-san’s eyes harden, “Hakuren is very dear to us. Seeing it become something painful for Itetsuki to be at was enough to help us make a decision. It seems like Itetsuki wasn’t against Fifth Sector at first – that, I think – was changed when he met you, Yukimura.”

Hyouga whips his head to stare at him.

“What?”

“You see, Fifth Sector was probably something that could help him. In what way, I don’t know. Whatever you did after meeting him clearly opened up his eyes. He decided that soccer isn’t meant to be like that, it isn’t supposed to hurt or be used to hurt,” at that, Shirou-san looks at him pointedly, “He said there’s a lot of kids now, who want to play, but are too afraid to step up without someone who would protect them. That’s why Atsuya and I agreed to coach.”

The man sighs, “Well. It’s all going well. I don’t care that much for politics, but we both draw a line when it comes to hurting kids.”

All Hyouga can do is stare at him in something akin to awe, before he shakes his head and tries to ignore the hopeful spark in his chest.

Someone who would protect; someone who isn’t going to bow down to Fifth Sector.

Would that, would that mean that if Hyouga were to play they wouldn’t send him away, too?

Shirou-san glances at him when Hyouga breathes out shakily, “That’s good. That’s—“ he trails off, then changes his mind, “They deserve to play.”

“I agree,” then, he peers down at Hyouga, “I think you deserve to play, too. Your kick is very powerful, Yukimura.”

To say that Hyouga was shocked would be underestimation of what he’s actually feeling. The way Shirou-san said that, as if he was making a comment on a weather, as if Hyouga’s skills weren’t nothing, but weren’t anything out of ordinary either.

Hyouga is not special, he never were, and he’s aware of that. But his parents always treated him like he was, like he’s a trophy, an object to be glorified and good only at one thing. It came to a point where if Hyouga couldn’t be perfect, couldn’t measure up to their expectations – he’d spent the night crying over that, trying to find out where he went wrong.

All he ever wanted was someone who’d see that Hyouga didn’t need special treatment; he needed someone who would support him despite his flaws; who wouldn’t get pissed over small things like singing or knitting; someone who would take him as he is, imperfect and completely normal, and let him socialize with people like him.

His parents would rather have him locked away, alone. They’d rather have him fake a smile to his classmates and say he’s busy. They’d tell him he’s not worth their time and vice versa, that he doesn’t need friends to be a good artist and support him family.

Shirou-san doesn’t pick favorites. Atsuya-san doesn’t look like one who would, either.

Times like this Hyouga wonders how his life would look like if he never quit soccer.

Maybe. Just maybe, he’d be able to play beside them.

 

* * *

 

 

And then, Hyouga realizes that in the back of his classroom there’s a boy Hyouga knows from his last school and after the talk with Shirou-san he actually stops and thinks about him.

Koori Itsuki has pale skin, long dark-blue hair with light-blue hair locks at the front which he has tied in a ponytail and he has black eyes and thin light blue eyebrows that make Hyouga think of some kind of flower. That’s as weird to him as it would be to anyone else he’d mention it to.

But it’s also true.

It would be hard to explain, but Koori Itsuki is a flower – delicate, but persistent and tough on the inside. Hyouga knows and respects that. Not everyone can look like that and still be a troublemaker.

Then again, Hyouga didn’t even see him on the team despite the fact that Hyouga knows he played on one before.

In the end, he catches him just before he exits the building and pretends to not notice how Koori-san reacts to that sudden touch. It’s not his business, not really. Instead, he releases him quickly and sighs.

“Yukimura-kun?”

“The soccer team,” Hyouga says as a way of greeting, “Why are you not playing?”

Koori-san looks at him for a little while, then leans backwards against the wall. He seems to be thinking about something before he finally decides on something to say.

“Fifth Sector?”

“Not here,” Hyouga answers, “Don’t you know who’s coaching them?” At Koori-san’s clueless look, he adds a little exasperated, “Fubuki Shirou. Fubuki Atsuya. The ones who played on the national team?”

Koori-san’s eyes widen, “No way.”

“Yes. Way. So?” he presses, “Why are you not playing?”

“I didn’t know they were here!” he says in a hushed, but still loud enough way, “I mean? I thought Fifth Sector took control over most of the schools? I checked and Hakuren was the same not so long ago.”

“Well. It changed now.”

Koori-san nods, then narrows his eyes, “Why are _you_ not playing?”

Hyouga recoils, “This isn’t about me.”

“Uh huh, sure isn’t.”

“Why did you even transfer?” Hyouga changes the subject and avoids the way Koori-san huffs annoyed, “You liked the team.”

“Key word: liked.” Koori-san looks away, as if disgusted, Hyouga frowns, “Didn’t you know? About God’s Eden?”

Hyouga gulps, “What about it?”

“Some guy started coming over and recruiting kids. None of them returned by the time I switched schools, but that was creepy, alright? Like Fifth Sector level creepy. Imagine the creepiest thing ever and double that.”

Hyouga blinks, “Okay, that’s oddly specific.”

A shrug, then, “I mean, would YOU want to be send over to God’s Eden?”

Hyouga shudders, then shakes his head. No one would. The place is always described as hell among the kids who know something like this exists. No one sane willingly goes there and those who do quickly change their minds when they realize how rough the trainings there are.

“In any case,” Hyouga pushes away images of kids who have to endure that, “You can join the team now.”

Koori-san is still looking at him, as if he was wondering about something, “Is that so? Maybe I will.”

Hyouga breathes out, but then Koori-san continues, “But if I do, you’re joining with me.”

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t want to go there alone when you say there are legendary Fubuki Shirou and Fubuki Atsuya there, come on, _dude._ Don’t think you can just throw me there.”

“I’m not joining!” Hyouga protests.

Koori-san rolls his eyes, “There you are. The stubborn Yukimura Hyouga.”

“Koori-san—“

“Itsuki or drop the –san.”

“I can’t play.”

“It’s about your parents again, isn’t it?” Hyouga looks away, “Hey. I get it, but, Yukimura-kun, you can’t always be the good boy. You’re still miserable even though you quit. What difference does it make if you play?”

“But—“

“Think about it,” Koori-san says and turns around, hair bouncing on his back, “I’m going to fill out form tomorrow, so let me know if I’m gonna go and freak out over the Fubuki brothers alone or with you as a mental support.”

“Did you have to word it like that?” Hyouga asks seriously.

Koori-san only waves at him before he disappears into the building again. Hyouga sighs.

 

* * *

 

 

Hyouga does show up with a piece of paper in his trembling hand and Koori is as equally surprised as Hyouga is at himself and he spends the next hour trying to not talk himself out of it and remembering that he spent the whole yesterday convincing himself that it’s alright.

Because it is. Or at least, it should be alright.

Hyouga shouldn’t be afraid. If Koori is going to join, Hyouga can try too.

(He pretends it doesn’t terrify him, that his parents could find out, that his parents could get mad. He shoves those thoughts away and tunes them out with his studies.)

They go to the gym together and while Koori looks at ease, Hyouga has to remind himself that something called ‘breathing’ exists for a reason and that he shouldn’t try to suffocate himself. The thoughts that have him so worked up over the paper application for the soccer club are bouncing right and left in his head and he knows; it’s irrational. But it doesn’t change anything.

Finding the club advisor isn’t hard. It’s actually too easy.

Koori hums to himself as he knocks on the door, Hyouga flinches when it opens, then proceeds to take a step back when he sees Shirou-san in the threshold.

For the record, Koori blinks and stares shell-shocked. Hyouga is torn between laughing at his awe-struck expression and doing the same. He double-takes the plate on the door and nearly face-palms himself.

“That’s the coach’s lounge,” he mutters out, annoyed.

Koori startles and then blinks, “Wait, seriously?”

Hyouga looks away when Shirou-san gives them a questioning look, “We… knocked on the wrong door.”

Then quietly, but with emotion, Koori whispers, “Holy shit.”

Hyouga can’t help but agree.

“Aniki, is that Itetsuki again?” someone else calls out from the inside and Koori’s eyes widen even more, “Tell him there’s no extra training because I’m busy.”

Hyouga tries to make a swift escape, but Shirou-san smiles widely and calls back with a, “It’s Yukimura and his friend, Atsuya,” and suddenly Hyouga knows there’s not getting out of this and from the look on Koori’s face the other boy knows it as well.

He sighs and stays put, then, “We just—“

“We want to join!” Koori speaks over him and waves the paper he was holding in front of Shirou-san. The man takes it and looks it over, “Sorry, it’s so late though, sir.”

There’s noise inside the room, as if someone was standing up as Shirou-san nods his head, then pauses and looks up, “You said ‘we’?”

Koori nods and then pushes Hyouga forward.

“Yukimura?”

The confused tone is what makes Hyouga hesitate. Because he isn’t— he’s not supposed to—

_‘What would your mother think?’_

Hyouga flinches, but holds out his own form. Shirou-san doesn’t take it. Koori’s smile fades a little as he looks between them, “Is something wrong?”

“What about your other club, Yukimura?” Shirou-san asks seriously.

Hyouga trembles, but stays put, because even if he’s terrified, even if everything’s telling him to run and never change a thing because it would be safer, Hyouga knows the moment he turns around is the moment where Hyouga can either fight or be a coward.

And Hyouga is done being a coward.

So he thrusts the paper out even more and frowns at the man, almost glaring, “Well? Are you going to accept it or not?” then after a moment of consideration, “sir.”

Before Shirou-san can answer, Atsuya-san peeks from over his shoulder and plugs the paper out of his hands with a smirk, “What do we have here, hmm?”

“Atsuya,” Shirou-san begins, exasperated.

“Why do you sound so disappointed in me, Aniki?” Atsuya-san asks, before he looks Hyouga over, “You. Chibi,” Hyouga’s eyebrow _twitches_ , “You’re the one Itetsuki won’t shut up about, aren’t you?”

Koori blinks, then looks at Hyouga, “Wait. _This_ Itetsuki?”

Hyouga glances at him, “Huh?”

“Dude,” Koori gasps, “Itetsuki is like, the coolest person ever.”

Atsuya-san also blinks, then shakes his head, “Uh huh. No. He’s a total loser.”

“Atsuya!”

“He doesn’t appreciate my cooking!” Atsuya-san justifies, “Do you understand that? That means he’s a total loser. A kid loser, but still.”

“God, I swear you only joined as a trainer to terrorize the kids,” Shirou-san massages his temples.

Hyouga mutters out under his breath, “I’d be surprised if he had a different reason.”

Koori waves his hands around, “Nevermind that, can we join or not?”

“Well, there’s no reason why you couldn’t,” Atsuya-san replies, before looking at Hyouga pointedly, as if proving something, “Unless Midget-kun here has any concerns he’d like to discuss, you’re free to go and join us tomorrow.”

Hyouga grits his teeth, as Atsuya-san’s smirks widens as if he was taunting him, trying to get him to react. Koori doesn’t seem to understand what’s that about, but he nods and turns around, still a little overwhelmed.

Hyouga moves to do the same, hesitates for a second, thinking back to his parents, then, “For the record, you aren’t as tall as you’d like to think either, Atsuya- _senpai._ ”

And practically runs out of the gym, leaving spluttering Atsuya-san behind. Shirou-san in the background laughs.

* * *

 

 

They say that it’s better to do than to not do and regret it afterwards, but Hyouga’s not sure anymore. He’s not sure of anything.

His parents call once a day – mostly to remind Hyouga that he’s got to practice and practice and to make sure he’s cleaning the house and that he doesn’t skip any classes. He’s not sure what’s worse. The fact that they call only to nag him or the fact that it’s all they care about, not Hyouga’s well-being.

Well.

He thinks that’s normal. No. He _thought_ it was normal, more like. Lately he’s been spending more time with Koori and Touma and he realizes with a unnatural sense of calmness, that it’s not in any way – normal. It’s bad, it’s neglectful. He thinks, but he’d never dare to say it out loud.

‘Your parents must love you so much, they always talk about how talented you are!’ people use to say and Hyouga thought it was true. Maybe he wanted it to be the truth, because it would hurt less than knowing that Hyouga’s only an object in their eyes.

The moment Hyouga speaks out against them is the moment they don’t call him their son anymore. It hurts more than he’s willing to admit.

Touma notices right away that something is different and when Hyouga shows up to practice in the Hakuren soccer club’s uniform his suspicions must have been confirmed. His expression hardens, but he doesn’t say a thing, at least not during the warm-up or the rest of practice.

However, the second the practice ends and they all change, Touma finds him in front of the outside field, sitting on the grass. Without hesitation he takes the place next to him. Hyouga doesn’t even acknowledge that.

“Is everything okay?”

Hyouga tenses for a second, before he reminds himself that Touma is not a threat and shrugs, “It’s fine.”

Touma hums, “But something is still bugging you.”

“I guess,” Hyouga mumbles, thumbing on the material of the shirt, “Say, Touma, what are your parents like?”

“Annoying,” comes the answer and Hyouga lets himself smile. Typical. “They’re not overprotective and let me do my stuff, so it’s alright. I know I can count on them,” Touma peers at Hyouga smiling sadly at something in the distance, “What’s all that about?”

“My parents aren’t that nice.”

Touma holds his breath, Hyouga thinks it’s because he’s never been honest about his family situation, not really. This must be the first time he voluntarily said something about them.

“Yeah,” Touma says at last, “I gathered,” he adds, drily.

Hyouga winces, “Am I that transparent?”

“Maybe. Maybe I just know you that well.”

“You’ve known me for month tops, Touma.”

He smirks, “Long enough to know then, huh?”

For some reason, Hyouga blushes. He tries to hide it by covering it up with a cough and folding onto himself, wrapping his arms around his legs, “Whatever.”

Then, Touma sobers up, “But no, seriously. You were so against joining, why now?”

“Koori made me.”

“Yes, of course. And you just let him,” sarcasm drips from his words and Hyouga sighs, “No lies, Hyouga. I already know your parents are shitty.”

 _That’s not even half of it,_ he thinks, then says, “They’re on a business trip for a month. I just thought—“

Touma whirls around so fast Hyouga nearly jumps away, “They’re leaving you alone for _a month?!”_

 _Oh shit,_ Hyouga thinks, then smiles awkwardly and waves his hands, trying to backtrack, “Ah, haha, I said a month? I, I meant a day or two, um—“ Touma is glaring at him, ridiculous, “Not a month. I uh…”

“This is such bullshit,” says someone from behind them. This time, Hyouga DOES jump away.

Kou looks down on them, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Touma doesn’t react, he just gives her an unimpressed look with a “eavesdropping isn’t nice, Risuna” while Hyouga grips at his heart and turns away, just to not see the expression on her face.

It doesn’t really work. She passes them and sits seiza-style in front of them.

“Um,” Hyouga starts.

Kou glares, “Why didn’t you tell us that before?” At Hyouga’s look, she elaborates, “That your parents left you?”

He cringes at the wording, something ugly twisting inside of his chest, “They didn’t leave me.”

Touma snorts, Kou leans towards him, “This is still unfair.”

Awkward with that much attention on his person and the fact that, apparently, they both teamed up to make sure Hyouga understands he’s not off the hook, Hyouga backs away and clears his throat, “Maybe,” he allows.

Kou nods, satisfied, “You can stay with Itetsuki, then.”

_Hyouga.exe stops working._

“Excuse me? Touma, you can’t—Touma!” Hyouga exclaims when Touma hums to himself, looking thoughtful, “Don’t even think about it!”

“It’s not a bad idea, though,” he answers in his defense, glancing at Kou, then back at Hyouga, “I would have offered myself, if she didn’t beat me to it. And if you had told me that earlier.”

Sensing an accusation in that sentence, Hyouga pouts, “I don’t want that.”

Touma falls back to lie down on the grass, “Yeah. I figured.”

Kou is still frowning by the time Hyouga looks at her, but this time, she looks even more discouraged, “I don’t see why you even care,” he admits.

“I care because someone has to!”

“Okay,” Hyouga easily agrees.

“You’re so troublesome, I swear,” Kou complains, “Can’t you see we want to help?”

“One: no one is asking for your help,” at her offended look, he continues, “Two: I’m fine living on my own for some time. They call to check on me daily.”

“Some parents you have,” Touma mutters under his breath but loud enough that Hyouga actually flinches, words cutting deep and resonating with the part of Hyouga he’s not ready to admit yet, “Bullshit. If they really cared, you wouldn’t look so miserable all the time.”

Kou nods, but Hyouga only looks confused, “Miserable?”

“You think no one sees that?” he asks, “I don’t know you that long, true, but I remember when you were talking with someone on the phone, you mom, maybe? And there was something about art and you looked as if someone slapped you.”

“That’s your everyday expression, too,” Kou adds in, “Like there’s something you want to do, but can’t.”

At last, Hyouga sighs, “What do you all want me to do with that? I already joined.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Touma admits and Hyouga pretends it doesn’t hurt, “It’s like you’re running away. That doesn’t always work, Hyouga.”

Doesn’t always work out, he says. Hyouga wraps his arms around his legs and pulls them to his chest, “What do you even know?” he asks, but there’s no bite in that. Kou looks at him, something in her eyes so painfully familiar, Touma so conflicted, as if he wanted to reach out, “I can’t just—I can’t face them like this.”

“Like what?” Kou asks, whispering.

“Like I’m about to lose everything if I do,” Hyouga’s voice breaks a little, before he catches himself, “If I do something they don’t like, they will—“

He cuts himself off, years of practice in lying and avoiding the truth hitting him in a face. He’s not sure he’s even able to say it out loud by now, how hurt he is by what his parents have done in the past, but he’s always been forgiving them, explaining their actions.

Your parents love you, they said.

Hyouga knows it’s not really true.

Touma is silent, as if he was turning his words around in his head. Kou, however, grits her teeth and in a moment of courage – probably – surges forward to grip at Hyouga’s shoulders and look him dead in the eye with something more, something Hyouga’s always been afraid to name.

“They can’t!” she says and Hyouga blinks, rapidly, “I know—“

“Kou—“

“My parents they, they were always so pushy,” she begins in a quiet, but firm voice, “I had to do everything they say. And it was cool, they were cool, I mean. They love me and want the best for me, but the fact that they pushed hurt, because,” she tightens her fingers on him, “because I could _never_ be good enough for them.”

Touma looks away.

Hyouga gulps, “Kou…”

“I practiced and practiced until my fingers hurt. I didn’t sleep. I was working day and night to measure up to the idea of me that they had and it scared me, Yukimura-kun, that no matter what I did, I couldn’t.”

There’s a beat of silence as she stares at him desperately, “You do remember what I told you, right?”

“Once you know what’s freedom, you don’t want to let go of that, huh?” Hyouga mumbles.

“I was supposed to be a piano player, Yukimura-kun. Do you think they’d let me join the soccer club, just because I wanted?”

“No,” he admits, quiet. Touma is still not saying anything.

“I didn’t even like soccer until Touma came to me. I was ready to just accept things as they are and let them do with me what they wanted,” she finally lets go of him and slumps down on the grass. The air became chilly, “I actually wanted to be a journalist, you know?”

There’s a pause, “I still want to be. And I found someone who’s willing to support me in that, and Yukimura-kun, I’m sure there are people out there that would helped you if you only asked.”

Finally, Touma speaks up, “Holy Road is in a week. You should think about it.”

That’s the end of the conversation.

But somehow, Hyouga feels like he still knows nothing.


	3. you're not a loser, hyouga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so long, probably no one will read this but i am Satisfied

He comes over to Fubukis the next time. He tells himself it’s only because he’s bored. Really bored. That’s the only reason. It’s not like he was avoiding the place for the past few days either.

He hesitates at the door, thinking if he’s still welcome, but he shakes his head.

 _Yukine-san isn’t like that_ , he tells himself, _neither is Daiki-san._

The door opens. Atsuya-san stands in the threshold and immediately Hyouga feels a cold sweat run down his back because, holy shit, he didn’t even think about a possibility of him or Shirou-san being there and now that Atsuya-san looks down at him and raises an eyebrow, he feels like an idiot.

 _Of course,_ he thinks, _they’re a family._

Not Hyouga’s family. He doesn’t belong there.

Panicked, he takes a step back, ready to strategically retreat but soon, there’s a smirk on Atsuya-san’s face and he ushers him inside before Hyouga can back away properly. When the door closes, Hyouga feels like a caged animal.

(Atsuya-san does look intimidating enough to be the predator, anyhow).

“Mom! Your minion is here!”

“Atsuya!” somewhere inside comes Shirou-san’s scolding voice, followed by Yukine-san’s inquiry who Atsuya-san even means.

Hyouga for his part tries to not freak out and manages a weak glare in Atsuya-san’s direction. The man only pats his back (only after he saw that Hyouga sees the hand coming down, Hyouga doesn’t know how he feels about it) and pushes him forward.

“I can come back later,” he whispers, resisting.

“Nonsense.”

“But—!”

Atsuya-san hushes him with a tut and finally, finally manages to get him inside the room. Yukine-san stands in the doorway of the kitchen, cookies on the plate and a smile that could brighten Hyouga’s white walls at home, while Daiki-san and Shirou-san lounge on the coach, each with a book in a hand.

Hyouga feels terribly out of place.

“This minion,” Atsuya-san says and it takes a minute for Hyouga to realize he’s answering a previous question, “I was wondering when he’s gonna show up again. Hey, Aniki, you up for some soccer?”

Shirou-san’s eyes glint when he looks up, “Does Hyouga want to play?”

Now, Hyouga just feels played himself, and not in the way he was expecting, “No.”

Daiki-san smiles to himself. Yukine-san takes Atsuya-san’s place in front of him and gently takes off his winter hat, while making sure Hyouga knows he’s not unwelcome there. For some reason, this speaks louder than any words, but he still struggles, still doubts.

“I’m sorry,” he begins and Yukine-san hums, questioningly, “For coming over so suddenly.”

“We told you you’re welcome here,” she reminds.

Hyouga’s eyes automatically fly over to where Atsuya-san perched himself on the headrest of the couch and where Shirou-san is reading. Yukine-san follows his gaze and lets out a soft “ah”, “Don’t worry about them, honey.”

“But—“

“No one is against you being here, Hyouga-kun,” she states firmly, “Don’t go making assumptions on your own, alright?”

Finally, as Yukine-san takes his jacket, he slumps down, relieved, “Okay.”

“Go sit down, I will make you something warm to drink,” she calls over her shoulder, disappearing inside the kitchen again.

“It’s… fine,” he mumbles out, protest dying on his lips when she gives him a stern look and he goes to sit down on the far end of the couch, stiff and uncertain. After a second, Daiki-san casually drapes a blanket that’s been covering his legs over Hyouga’s own.

“Any peculiar reason why you came here today?” Daiki-san asks after a while, turning a page in his book.

Hyouga hesitates, “No.”

Daiki-san gives him a knowing look. Hyouga averts his eyes to stare at Atsuya-san trying to annoy Shirou-san into coming outside to play. The fact that it’s been snowing for quite a while now clearly doesn’t bother him. And to be completely honest, Hyouga wouldn’t mind practicing in that weather either.

Huh.

His parents would have his head for doing that, though.

When Yukine-san comes back with a blue cup patterned with snowflakes, Hyouga smiles and thanks her. It’s only then, in that warm and quiet atmosphere, that Hyouga realizes how tired he is. In his room, the process of falling asleep never comes easy to him, images of his mother, his father always haunting his mind and cold seeping through his clothes prevents him from fully relaxing.

Yet, here? It’s never a problem and it scares Hyouga how comfortable he grew to be around those people.

He sips slowly at this tea and shifts his position so he doesn’t lean so awkwardly and he tucks himself in the corner. He wonders, if his parents were different, would he spend his evenings like this everyday?

He’d like that.

Yukine-san joins them not long after Hyouga feels his eyes get tired from staring at Atsuya-san finally stopping his attempts at making Shirou-san move, and she looks at him. She’s kind. Kinder than Hyouga’s mother’s steel eyes and cold hands.

He thinks he’d like her to be—

“You want to ask us something, Hyouga-kun?”

A lot of things. Most of them too scary for Hyouga to say. But there’s one thing that’s been turning inside of his head for a while now after Kou brought it up.

“If you had to fight for something, but that thing would cost you something dear to you, would you still do it?”

“Yes.”

Taken aback by the bold answer Hyouga whips his head around to stare at Yukine-san. The woman smiles at him, a little sad for a reason Hyouga thinks he’s too afraid to find out and she continues, pensive, “There are things worth fighting for, Hyouga-kun. Even if you end up losing something along the way, the things you get at the end make up for it.”

Shirou-san perks up at that, “You should tell him _the_ story, Mom.”

Atsuya-san looks confused for a moment, before realization dawns on him and he nods, just as eagerly, “Oh yeah. You know, _the_ one.”

“Ah, I see,” she looks to Hyouga, “Would you like to hear it?”

Not knowing what’s going on, but going along with it anyways, Hyouga nods, “Sure.”

“Alright, hmm. Where to begin?”

Daiki-san hums, “Maybe from the beginning when you first started playing soccer?”

“Right. You see, Hyouga-kun, I also played soccer, once upon a time,” she glances at the bookcase Daiki-san was standing by that one day, “I don’t think my parents liked that very much either. It’s unladylike. I was expected to learn how to sew, how to cook, how to clean and take care of my husband. I did all those things, but,” she trails off for a moment, “Sometimes it wasn’t enough.”

“And so she saw a handsome, young—“

“Stop flattering yourself, Dai-chan,” she tuts at him with a fond expression, “But yes. Then I met Daiki for the first time. I think it was this one time when he was practicing outside when it was snowing. I remember thinking he’s a little stupid like this.”

“You didn’t think, Mom. You told him this face to face,” Shirou-san reminds.

“He could get a cold like this!” she defends, and Hyouga wonders if that’s what a friendly banter between adults looks like, “Anyways. We started talking more and more after this until one day Daiki told me I should try myself in soccer.”

Hyouga leans forward a little to hear better. Atsuya-san from his place nest to Shirou-san throws him a knowing look.

“It was a disaster,” Daiki-san admits, “Because she wasn’t used to the ice and the first time she tried it out, she fell on her butt. Twice. If not more.”

“The story isn’t about my failures, Dai-chan!” she protests, but the man only laughs, head buried in his book, “We grew apart after this, too. And we met again years after, when I moved out here to Hokkaido and took up hunting.”

“Hunting,” Hyouga mouths, then recalls briefly her clothes from the first time they met. It all makes more sense now.

“Yes. It turned out that Dai-chan devoted himself to researching something you’ve taken liking to calling  hissatsu techniques and its origins. The subject itself interested me and we hit it off immediately. And soon, I tried myself at soccer again,” then she sighs, “Of course, not without a backlash from my parents.”

Here, she takes a deep breath, “We will disown you, they said, you’re a lady, act like it. Now. I’m sure you’re very familiar with parents pushing their expectations on you, Hyouga-kun, but you have to understand that even now, our situation is very much different. For example, back then I couldn’t just tell them I don’t care and do what I want. There was a line I was terrified to cross.”

“Some lines are meant to be crossed, though,” Daiki-san throws in, “Because they’re there not because we want them, but because someone forced them on us.”

“And so I was really struggling. I was ready to give it up, before Dai-chan came to convince me otherwise.” She smiles, remembering, “Just this once, he said, try it out with me. And so I did. My element, as it turned out, was Wind and when Daiki showed me how to use it,” her voice turns soft, touched, “it was amazing. It felt as if everything I doubted disappeared. Or at least, disappeared long enough for me to make a decision.”

Hyouga waits and waits, but Yukine-san looks like she’s trying to find her voice. He looks down on his hands hidden in the blanket and whispers, “You didn’t stay.”

“No,” she shakes herself out of the trance, “I couldn’t. Not after I knew what I was missing out. And I think it was only a simple thing, you know? That hissatsu I did with Daiki’s help. I helped me remember that if I want to do something, I should go ahead and do it.”

Catching his gaze, Daiki-san continues from where she left  off, “You’re probably thinking it sounds so simple, huh?”

As if caught red-handed Hyouga flushes red, but Yukine-san only waves her hand, “I wouldn’t blame you, I’m a terrible story-teller, but just so you know I didn’t just got up and left. I had to endure hundreds of fights and arguments with my parents, just so they could allow me to be with Daiki and play soccer. It was terrible and long and I wanted to give up more than a few times.”

“Why didn’t you?” Hyouga blurts out and Yukine-san cuts herself off, “If you loved them, if they loved you – why didn’t you just let them decide for you? Didn’t you want them to be happy?” and once he starts talking, it’s as if the words are flying out of his mouth, desperate, “What was even the point? Didn’t you feel sad? Didn’t you want to go back? They were angry, weren’t they?”

“Hyouga—“

“ _Why didn’t you give up_?” his voice cracks. Yukine-san looks close to tears at that.

There’s a beat of heavy silence until she finally breathes out and looks at him as if she saw all the broken pieces Hyouga tried to tape back in place, bleeding and sharp, “There are things in life that you should fight for. In the hindsight, if I didn’t stand up for myself, I would never give birth to Atsuya and Shirou. I would never be together with Dai-chan. I would never meet you, Hyouga-kun,” she pauses, “And sure, I didn’t know that would happen.”

“Then…”

“But I hoped. And hope, Hyouga-kun, is a powerful thing. It brings miracles.”

Hyouga is teary-eyed by the end of that, but he only nods, silent.

No one speaks after that.

* * *

 

The house is quiet when Hyouga comes back. He sets his bag in the hall – there’s no one to yell at him for leaving his things around the house; he sets up a table and brings out the leftovers from yesterday to heat them up – no one tells him to ‘have a good meal’; he cleans the room, cleans the bathroom, the living room, all of it – no one breathes down his neck to criticize; and when he goes to bed – there’s no one there to fill in the empty space inside his heart, either.

* * *

 

Despite joining the team along with Koori, Hyouga is still hesitant to show off. He’s sure nobody besides maybe Touma notices that and so when Hyouga steps off the field while being changed with Koori, he’s surprised to see Ginjirou Makari – the local Mom Friend, as they said, and a ninja all in one – watching him with a frown.

He’s about to ask if something is wrong when the boy lets out a huff, as if irritated and says in a conflicted voice, “Why aren’t you giving your all?”

And Hyouga dies. Just a little. Just a bit, when he noticed the concerned, not offended or mad edge to his tone.

“That’s just—“ he tries to explain then trails off, not knowing how to tell him that when his parents come back, Hyouga will have to resign anyways, that this happiness is temporary and he will never, ever be able to give his all.

His shoulders slump and he shrugs. Ginjirou-san’s frown deepens. Hyouga feels helpless.

“Do you… not like soccer?” he asks after a while.

Hyouga almost gives himself a whiplash lifting his head, “I love soccer!”

Ginirou-san looks even more confused, Hyouga feels something tighten in his chest when the boy continues, “Then no matter what, you should be able to give it your all. Especially at something you love,” he pauses and maybe he can’t hear it, but Hyouga certainly feels his own heart drop, “I heard your parents don’t allow this kind of thing. Is that true?”

Tense, but accepting Hyouga nods, “Yeah.”

“I heard Risuna-san’s parents were the same,” he admits, and Hyouga thinks for a moment that it’s all there is to it, no conversation should technically follow up this, but Ginjirou-san sets his jaw and looks more determined than ever, “You should stand up for yourself then.”

“That’s not really… that simple,” he tries to explain carefully.

“It really is. Don’t you know?” Ginjirou-san leans forward as if he was giving out a precious secret, “They can’t hurt you.”

Hyouga freezes.

“Come again?”

“If you’re worried about things getting worse, you have to know this. They can’t hurt you because if they do, the police would take care of it.”

Hyouga raises his hands, “wait, wait! No one says they’re hurting me.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Look,” he sighs, “I appreciate the concern, but—“

But this time, Ginjirou-san who may look soft and obedient, glares at him from under his long sea-green bangs and protests, “No, you don’t,” and when Hyouga gets ready to retort, he quickly adds, “You’re just saying this to get me off your back. You did the same with Itetsuki-san and Risuna-san, you’re just saying that to avoid further discussion.”

Hyouga squirms in his place, “That’s not true.”

But they both know it’s a weak comeback and Ginjirou-san is right, even as Hyouga tries to pretend he isn’t.

“In any case,” Ginjirou-san begins once more, “I think whatever is holding you back is irrelevant when it comes to doing something you love. What Risuna-san did, what she accomplished – is what you can do if you’d only reach out to the right people.”

“Ginjirou—“

“That’s all I wanted to say,” he cuts him off, turning around just in time to see Coach Shirou looking at them, question written on his face.

When Ginjirou-san disappears completely, Hyouga feels like a new burden got added onto his shoulders. He feels trapped under it, scared. He tells himself it’s alright – Ginjirou-san isn’t even his friend, he doesn’t know the situation at all.

But Hyouga is a liar.

A filthy liar and he knows that he’s right, that Ginjirou-san has a point.

Yet, Hyouga’s never been brave. He questions everything this point, even his ability to survive his parents’ rejection if it came to it. Although—

“Would it really be rejection if they never really accepted me?” he wonders out loud, then startles when someone touches his arm from behind and nearly jumps away if not for the familiar voice grounding him.

“What did Ginjirou say to you?” Touma asks, looking Hyouga over as if he saw something wrong there.

For a moment, Hyouga doesn’t answer, letting his heart settle, then he clears his throat and composes himself, “Nothing, just… stuff.”

Touma narrows his eyes, “’Just stuff?’”

Hyouga is a liar, that’s why his first instinct is to confirm that and move on; years of practice watching his mom do the same and his father supporting that does that to him, but then he hesitates. And Hyouga notices that he’s started hesitating a lot more ever since he met Touma and the others.

And that’s why he bites his tongue, and shakes his head, “I was just wondering, um…”

Touma waits. And that’s weird itself because Touma is patient, but not when it comes to Hyouga holding himself back.

So Hyouga takes a deep breath, “Do you think… if I tried… do you think I could do something about my, my parents?”

Touma’s entire expression changes into something way more attentive and he stands a little straighter, “Explain.”

Hyouga ends up looking where Atsuya-san and Shirou-san stand and he thinks he can do it, he thinks – if he was brave, if he was smarter and played his cards right – he could do it.

“I don’t—I don’t want to do… art.”

Touma nods, “I know.”

“Yes, uhm. But if I—“ he cuts himself, frustrated, “I don’t know what I want to say.”

There’s no judgment in Touma’s eyes when he looks around, perhaps checking if someone’s listening, and answers, “You know, we don’t know each other that long,” Hyouga nods at that, albeit a bit hesitantly  to where the conversation is going, “but from what I’ve gathered is that you’re kind of a coward.”

Ouch.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Touma smirks at him for a moment, then, “But I don’t think you have any reason to be. At least, not when you think about it.” He pauses for a moment, “Actually, if you’re worried about them, what about your other relatives?”

“Don’t know them?”

“What do you mean, you have to have at least one relative you know,” Touma eyes him critically, “Don’t be a moron.”

“No, seriously. I don’t have any contact with them.”

“Not even one?”

Hyouga kind of shrinks on himself, “There was this aunt once?”

“Are you asking or saying?”

“Saying.”

“Well. Then reach out to her,” Touma puts it simply, “Either that or you stand up to yourself and deal with it when it backfires.”

Hyouga considers him for a moment, “Atsuya-san is rubbing off on you.”

Touma hits the back of his head for that.

* * *

 

They come back earlier from the trip.

And perhaps Hyouga finds out in the worst way possible and maybe, just maybe, he feels regret. For a second – at disobeying them, at going against their will when they say all they want is happiness for him  - and that regret stays with him while he stands paralyzed in the stadium, ball forgotten and breath stolen.

They lose anyway, the match that is. It’s Raimon that takes the win and Hyouga doesn’t peculiarly care about THAT right now, not when he sees her – his mother – in the stands, eyes cold and unforgiving, all business attire and look.

The team gets off the field, they change. Hyouga thinks that maybe he saw wrong, so he goes out the dressing room to check and it’s past the corridor when he sees them. Both of them, standing not so far away from him looking at pictures on the board in front of them.

There’s a second where Hyouga panics, then when that panic sets in entirely he realizes he’s in his gym clothes, that he wasn’t supposed to be in a gym clothes at ALL. It happens all the time, he realizes, when he does something that looks like his parents wouldn’t approve of.

Why?

He comes closer, heart in his throat.

Why does he feel scared?

“Mom? Dad?” he chokes out, “What are you doing here?”

“Better question is, _Hyouga_ , is what are _you_ doing here?”

Flinching away at the cold tone of his mother’s, Hyouga replies in a shaky voice, “I just wanted—“

“Play that soccer?” His father mocks, “When we explicitically told you not to?”

Whywhywhywhy _whywhy—?_

“My friend invited me to join,” he explains, hands wriggling together and eyes flickering from his mother to his father nervously, sensing danger but not knowing why, “I agreed. It’s just, it’s just for a little while.”

“I don’t care,” his mother says bluntly then takes out a piece of paper from her messenger bag and gestures for Hyouga to take it, “We found out about it from your homeroom teacher. Imagine our surprise that after all those years of taking care of you we have to find out that you’ve been lying to us for the whole time.”

Hyouga grips the paper tight, enough to create wrinkles. Words ‘I resign from the _______ club’ staring back at him, mockingly. Hyouga thinks he feels himself being strung like a bow, for some reason. Tense, waiting. On the edge.

He thinks of Touma genuinely wanting to be friends with him; of Kou and her dreams of becoming a journalist; of Kitaki-san’s friendly teasing; Koori’s encouragement and support; of Ginjirou-san’s quotes and stupid way of vexing poetry out. He doesn’t want to lose that.

“Why is it wrong?”

Before he’d never ask. Before he’d hide in the corner, he’d cower and run away. He’s say ‘yes’ and obey even when he’s definitely against something. He’s scared of speaking out and Touma told him it’s not normal, it’s never been normal.

Why does he think it is normal?

“We don’t want you to be playing,” she answers simply, as if they had this conversation millions of times before.

They did. Probably. But Hyouga never pressed the issue.

“Why is it wrong?” he repeats louder, the paper he was holding threateningly close to tearing and his mother’s eyes zero on that movement while his father’s eyes flash dangerously, “Why can’t I play? Why don’t you let me do it?”

“I told you—“

“No, you didn’t,” he shakes, voice breaking and coming in stutter, but he keeps going, “Why did you make me quit violin? Why did you told me I can’t knit?”

“We’re  not explaining ourselves to a child,” his father snaps.

Hyouga thinks of the Fubuki grandparents. Of their kind smiles and ‘you’re just a kid’.

Then, he remembers Kiyoshi.

 _‘You’re doing all you can to please them but you don’t see that it’s worthless to them. You’re_ nothing _to them.’_

“I deserve to know,” he whispers.

“It doesn’t matter,” his mother dodges the topic, “Just fill out the form and give it to that man.”

“Why did you leave me alone?” he ignores her order and watches as her face goes from irritated to downright scarily calm, “And you wanted to leave me for a month?”

“You’re responsible and mature, Hyouga,” his father explains shortly, “You can handle it.”

_‘You’re just a kid’._

“I’m fifteen,” he corrects, “I don’t deserve that.”

“You’re overreacting.”

‘ _Once I knew what freedom was, I never wanted it to be taken away.’_

“I’m not,” he insists, “Why did you do all this? Why won’t you let me play?” he takes a step forward and realizes that his voice still shakes, his eyes sting, “Why? I draw, I practice but you never care,” he grips at her hands, tries to hold onto her, because maybe he’s wrong, maybe they really care but—“why can’t you let me?”

There’s silence.

Then, “We’re going home, Hyouga. Pack up, I will speak to your teacher and take you off the team.”

Hyouga tightens his fingers on her wrist, and halts her, “No!”

“Let go of your mother, Hyouga,” his father warns.

“Don’t do this,” he pleads, “Please. I will do anything, but please let me play.”

“No,” she snaps at him, “You will not play!”

“I want to!”

“And I’m saying no!” she finally yells at him, pushing him away so hard that he loses his balance and falls back with a loud thud while she swipes her hair back and breathes out angrily, before composing herself, “I said no, Hyouga. And that’s final.”

“And no meeting this Itetsuki Touma either,” his father adds, “Or anyone from the team.”

Hyouga stays on the ground.

_‘Being active is important to you.’_

“It’s not fair,” he stars out whispering, then louder, lifting his head up, “It’s not fair!”

“Get up,” his father snaps.

“You can’t take away my friends!”

“I already told you—!” his father starts, but his mother’s lips curl into a snarl so familiar it shakes Hyouga to the core and makes him grip even tighter. From fear, maybe. Perhaps he doesn’t want to let go, maybe the fact that he’s still holding her is the only reason why he hasn’t bolted out of the corridor.

“I didn’t raise you so you could get friendly with trash,” she snaps.

Hyouga stills.

The air is heavy.

“…trash?” he repeats, grip loosening and chest eerily tight.

“He’s not worth anything,” she’s saying and each word is like a blow, “Not him, not that stupid girl Risuna who squandered her chance to be someone and certainly not those pathetic people you like so much, Fubuki brothers?”

“Stop it,” he whispers suddenly, eyes zeroed on where he’s still trying to stop her from moving.

“You can get mad at me all you want,” she continues unbothered, “It doesn’t change the fact that they’re nothing and you won’t be seeing them again.”

His father tries to add something, but Hyouga can’t listen to that anymore. It was fine, if they insulted him and put him down. It was fine if they wanted to hurt him.

But—

“They’re not nothing!”

His friends mean more to him.

Those were the people who despite knowing him for a short amount of time stick to him and try to help; those are the people who support him; people who are genuinely good and deserving of love.

And Hyouga can allow for much, he can be a pushover to them, but he will never, ever in million years, allow anyone to insult or belittle his friends.

The stunned silence that follows is broken only after a minute.

“Ah, excuse me?” there’s a new voice from behind Hyouga, cold in a different way than his mother’s, cold in a protective way, “Is everything okay? I heard shouting.”

“It’s fine,” his mother answers coolly, a practiced smile falling into place, as if she wasn’t looking at Hyouga with disgust and horror just seconds ago,  “My son is just overreacting.”

“We’re taking him home,” his father answers in a pleasant voice and Hyouga grits his teeth, bottom lip trembling because why, he doesn’t understand. Why are they acting like this?

 “Nothing is happening,” his mother says and comes closer to take his wrist and pull him upwards, sharply, “Come on, we’re going home.”

Yet, Hyouga plants himself like a tree and doesn’t move, not even when she tries to twist his wrist, not even when she digs her nails into his skin.

“Apologize.”

“Excuse me?” she recoils at that.

When Hyouga looks up and opens his mouth, he’s surprised by how strong, how venomous his voice actually is, “Apologize for calling my friends trash.”

Atsuya-san is standing meters away from them, eyes flickering from one face to another, unsure if he should act or not. Hyouga pays him no attention. Instead, he wrenches his hand away and glares at her and whatever look he has on his face clearly disturbs her, because her eyes widen ever so slightly.

“They’re not nothing,” he growls out, “They’re not trash or pathetic. They’re the friends who helped me realize what a shitty parent you are.”

It happens in a flash. A hand slapping him in a face, so hard he recoils and the cold fury in her eyes as she stalks closer to take him by the shirt, lips pulled in a snarl, “You are _never_ meeting your so-called friends, you are _nev_ er playing soccer again and you can _forget a_ bout ever going to Hakuren again, do you understand?” eyes wide, gasping for breath and tears sliding down his face, “I asked you a question, Hyouga. _Do you understand_?”

Why—

“Oi! You’re hurting him!” Atsuya-san suddenly moves and that’s when Hyouga—

 “He’s my son, I can do whatever I want.”

“Unless you want me calling the police, you crazy old hag, then no, you _can’t.”_

—really gets mad.

“I’m not your toy!” he snaps and kicks at her to make her let go, hitting her ribs and making her lose the grip she had on his collar, then stumbling back and putting  good distance between them, “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”

“I’m your mother!”

“You don’t even act like one!” he shouts back, and pretends he doesn’t feel how wet his face is, “All you do is punish me and say I’m worthless and stupid and the only thing I’m good is for art!”

“I’m doing this for YOU!”

“How is calling my friends trash and taking my things away and making sure I never make a decision about my life, helping me?” he snarls, “How is leaving me alone in the house – originally for a month – okay for you?”

“You’re old enough—“

“I’m a kid!” he nearly screams and coughs, his throat dry, trying to get his point across. By the time he continues, his voice is scratchy and shaky, “I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve to be treated like that after all I did.”

And scarily enough – when he says it now – he believes it.

He could deal with a lot before, he put up with bunch of bullshit he should have never agreed to – only because they were his parents, they were supposed to protect him, he shouldn’t even be scared of them – and he finds it funny, that the moment he snapped was when she started insulting his friends.

Maybe later that day he will laugh that it’s his first instinct  - care about others before himself, but right now, he’s seething.

“I’m done,” he says finally, hoarse, “I’m not coming home with you.”

His mother watches with his father and grits her teeth. Hyouga doesn’t even blink, too angry to feel the guilt that surely will come soon.

Atsuya-san clears his throat.

“As much as this touching scene is making me tear up,” he drawls out, “My team is waiting for us to join them on the bus, so if you’ll excuse me,” he firmly, but with a gentle push, directs Hyouga to the exit behind them, “I will take my pupil and go—“

“You’re not taking my son, Fubuki-san,” his mother quickly interjects, reaching out to take Hyouga’s wrist again, but recoiling when Atsuya-san’s hand shoots in front of him, blocking her way. She narrows her eyes, “I _appreciate_ you looking after Hyouga,” she grits out, “But it’s time for us to go home.”

“Yukimura doesn’t want to go home with you,” he says bluntly, taking a step towards her, “So he’s coming with us.”

His father answers quicker than she does, “You’re not his parent.”

“Last time I checked you didn’t act like one either,” Atsuya-san retorts not missing a beat, “So that argument is kind of irrelevant. Besides, Yukimura agrees, don’t you, Yukimura?”

Startled when the attention comes back to him, Hyouga holds onto the last bits of anger he feels and nods, “Yeah.”

“Then it’s settled. He’s going with us and you can go home and be your unpleasant selves there.”

“You’re rude, Fubuki-san,” Hyouga’s mother comments, “It’s obvious now why Hyouga started rebelling against us. All you do is set bad example for him. You and that pitiful brother of yours.”

“Shigure, I think that’s enough,” his father cuts in suddenly, but she doesn’t listen and Hyouga knows it before he sees it when her calm mask finally snaps away and she starts to glare at Atsuya-san in unhidden hatred.

“I decide when it’s enough.”

Atsuya-san raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her, and Hyouga knows it’s not because he underestimates her – it’s because compared to Hyouga where he’s terrified of her, deep inside, Atsuya-san literally doesn’t care much for her.

Hyouga wishes he could be like him.

“Are you going to keep stalling?” he asks, “I have more important things to do than watch you run your mouth.”

“So do I,” she shoots back, “And I will not allow someone like you to take my son and infect him with your stupidity and arrogance.”

“Seems like you’re doing it all yourself,” Atsuya-san ignores the way Hyouga twitches nervously beside him, “And I told you before: he doesn’t want to go with you, so he won’t. I’m responsible for him right now.”

“I’m his parent, I’m the one who decides where he goes.”

“Yes, of course. Because you’re _such a good_ parent,” his voice drips with sarcasm and Hyouga thinks it’s kind of amusing seeing his father so bewildered, “that your own kid is scared of you.”

If someone dropped a needle in the hallway where they are standing the sound could probably echo. The silence that follows makes Hyouga stiffen, but he’s too afraid to look back and see the expression on their faces. Not like Atsuya-san would let him – he’s practically blocking his view with his back.

“Excuse me?” his mother finally snaps out of it, “What are you getting at?”

“Exactly what I’ve said,” he stares hard at her, “I don’t have to be so – oh so educated as you two – to recognize neglect when I see it,” Hyouga can’t move but he wishes he could and he wishes he could disappear too, because Atsuya-san haven’t really been around Hyouga so much, how could he know— “Unless you want me reporting you, I suggest you step back and let me take care of him.”

His mother is opening her mouth to speak, but his father beats her to it, “Fine.”

“Hiroshi!”

“Shigure,” he says softly, “I don’t like it either.”

There’s a beat of silence, then she huffs and turns around, “I expect him at home before ten.”

Atsuya-san waves a hand at her, “Yes, yes, now shoo!”

When they disappear from the sight, Hyouga hurries  to explain, “They don’t—I’m sorry— The police—“

“If they didn’t do anything bad to you,” Atsuya-san cuts off, albeit a bit impatiently now, “then the police wouldn’t scare them.” Hyouga’s mouth snaps shut. “Think about it, Yukimura.”

Hyouga stares at him, and not because Atsuya-san is looking at him like That, although that could also be the reason why, but the reason he actually stares is because Atsuya-san’s eyes are sharp and narrowed and his fingers are clenching and unclenching and only now does Hyouga realizes.

Atsuya-san wasn’t calm at all. In fact, he’s been angry. Perhaps angrier than Hyouga could ever be.

 _He’s angry at me?,_ he wonders then shakes his head slightly, _no_.

 _He’s angry_ for _me._

“Sure,” he remembers to reply, “Now what?”

“We’re going back,” he says as if not understanding, “Aniki is waiting on for us.”

Hyouga almost bites his tongue, “You made her mad, Atsuya-san,” he reminds.

An emotion passes too quickly in Atsuya-san’s eyes for Hyouga to recognize, but then Atsuya-san shrugs, “Well, she deserved it.”

“Did she?” he wonders.

“She did,” his voice turns sharper and Hyouga flinches, “I thought you know this now.”

And then, as they turn to go back to the bus, Hyouga whispers loud enough for the man to hear, “I’ve always known.”

The silence that answers is deafening.

 

* * *

Touma greets him with a box of juice in hand and makes him sit right next to Shirou-san for reasons Hyouga has yet to figure out with words, “We’re definitely talking later.”

Kou throws his stuff at him when he takes his place and Ginjirou-san gives him his jersey, while Koori keeps glancing at him, uncertain. Only Kitaki-san doesn’t really acknowledge what happened and keeps trying to talk Hyouga’s ear off. It doesn’t work so he gives up halfway.

It’s only then that Shirou-san speaks up, “Atsuya said and I quote, ‘that you snapped’. Is that true?”

Hyouga feels tired out of sudden, and instead of giving a proper answer, he shrugs. But Shirou-san doesn’t stop there, “I know you won’t’ believe me when I say that, but I think that’s a good thing.”

Hyouga throws him an offended look and Shirou-san smiles, a little sheepish, “It’s true.”

“What’s so good about the fact that she’s mad?” he asks and maybe he’s just done keeping their image, done trying to play it safe, especially after what they did, “The fact that she’s going to get rid of me and I can say goodbye to Hakuren or the fact that she’s so mad she will probably wreck my room?”

Apparently, he said something wrong because Shirou-san’s smile slips off, “Say goodbye?”

Then, Hyouga realizes, that he never told them. Not about his transfers, not about how he actually knows Fifth Sector, not about never staying too long in one place. He thinks maybe that was the reason he didn’t speak out, maybe he just wanted to stay.

He turns away, shame wriggling under his skin and burning his chest, “Yeah.”

Seeing him so choked up was probably a rare sight too, probably so rare because Hyouga never allowed himself to get so worked up over his transfers. It always happened anyways.

He grits his teeth, “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what, Yukimura?” he asks carefully.

“Fifth Sector doesn’t take kindly to kids that meddle in their business,” he offers as an explanation and it sounds as bitter as Hyouga feels.

“You told us you’re a newbie,” Atsuya-san cuts in.

Shirou-san glances at him, “We knew he lied, back then.”

“Still,” Atsuya-san shrugs, then leans into Hyouga’s space, “So? What are you gonna do?”

Hyouga gives him a weird look, “I can’t do anything.”

“Bullshit.”

“Atsuya!”

“Listen here, I told you this before but you’re obviously too stubborn, so I will repeat it,” Hyouga looks at him, weary, “As long as you’re wearing this uniform,” he jabs his finger into Hyouga’s chest, the ten on the shirt almost burning into his skin, “you’re my and Aniki’s business. You’re not alone as long as you stay with us. So I’m asking again, and don’t think about saying that bullshit again. What are you gonna do?”

Shirou-san stays quiet, Atsuya-san piercing gaze makes Hyouga shift on his seat and avert his eyes again, not knowing how to handle honesty from an adult.

“Deal with it?” he guesses.

It would be a lost fight though.

Atsuya-san flicks him the forehead and Hyouga yelps, “Ask for help, you rascal.”

Hyouga freezes, like a deer caught in headlights, “Help?”

“I tried to subtly hint at it through Itetsuki, since he’s been giving me a headache, constantly yapping about you, but I see it did nothing,” there’s a recognition in Hyouga’s eyes, “Oh, so you know what I’m talking about.”

“What can a relative even do?” he asks and it’s obvious it’s not a question neither of the expected, but Hyouga’s tired and he doesn’t want to deal with it, “I have contact with no one, even if I did, they can’t do a damn thing. The only option would be taking me in and I would end up transferring anyways.” Then, to himself, “It’s about time anyways. I never stayed that long in one place.”

Atsuya-san thinks, but Shirou-san perks up, “I have a friend who could help.”

Hyouga blinks.

Atsuya does too, then he seems to realize something and he groans, “No! you can’t mean HIM.”

“He’d help us, though!”

Not in the mood to deal with the mysterious person, Hyouga cuts in, “Thanks, but no. It’s my own burden.”

“Yukimura…” they both started in union, weary.

“I can get fine by myself,” he says and although it feels like a lie, he believes in it, “It’s the least I can do. I won’t let them do what they did, again.”

“Well, excuse us if we don’t believe you,” Atsuya-san mutters out, moving to sit down on his seat.

“I don’t need you to believe me,” Hyouga retorts dryly, “We don’t even know each other that well for me to care about that.”

Atsuya-san – because clearly he’s not the one who’s ready to lose the argument – turns to look at him, a smirk forming on his face, “You know Itetsuki enough, don’t you?”

Hyouga’s mouth snaps shut at that, and for some reason his cheeks redden a little. He bristles at that and turns away from him, “Not your business.”

Atsuya-san doesn’t stop grinning the whole ride back to school.

 

* * *

 

Hyouga doesn’t go home when they arrive, instead he hangs back and thinks over Atsuya-san’s words while musing over Shirou-san’s calm presence that helped settle Hyouga’s racing thoughts.

Hyouga’s family isn’t close with each other – he could go as far as to say he didn’t have one if he didn’t have memories of old and young people that were visiting a lot when Hyouga was younger.  Faces unfamiliar and voices always too snappy or too slurred for him to place a name. Sometimes, he could see images of someone complimenting him for his quietness. If he focused more, he could recognize his grandmother before she passed away.

At some point, they all stopped coming.

Hyouga once asked why, but his father only shook his head and said, “We don’t need them.”

It’s true that they never needed them, Hyouga’s parents aren’t poor, they’re successful. Why would they want to keep contact with them?

However, Hyouga remembers clearly that one person.

Yukimura Kotone – always dressed in sweaters that make her look younger than she is, with hair almost as dark as Hyouga’s and eyes in a shade of dull grey – as a fellow artist was always the one who made Hyouga feel as if art wasn’t such a burden, like it was a place to be free. He doesn’t remember her too much – only the scent of paint lingering in her skin and gentle hands that liked to stroke through Hyouga’s hair managed to stick in his memory.

One day, she too was gone and Hyouga forgot about her until Atsuya-san mentioned asking for help.

He doesn’t go home when the bus dropped them at Hakuren. He slips unnoticed, away from the prying eyes and takes out his phone. He hopes Touma already went home.

When he finally manages to unlock it with his shaking hands, he scrolls down the list of contacts and picks one.

It’s true his family cut ties with each other, but it’s not like Hyouga wasn’t curious before; it’s not like he didn’t look for ways to find someone nicer, someone who didn’t look down on Hyouga. He wanted to know – always wanted to find out – what’s his other relatives looked like, how they held each other.

He stumbled upon Kotone’s number by accident while looking through his father’s old letters.

And as his fingers hovers over the button, he hesitates only for a moment. He thinks back to his parents one last time, trying to justify their actions, but he can’t find anymore. He can understand hurting him, he can understand being the one put on the high pedestal and being judged, but he could never ever stand having to watch his parents insult his friends.

It’s one thing he will never accept.

So he presses on the green button and waits. Then in a voice that scares Hyouga more than venomous or loud spoken insults, someone picks up.

“Yukimura Kotone speaking.”

He doesn’t understand why she sounds so empty, so automatic, but, “It’s me,” he tries to gauge if the silence from the other side is bad or not, “Hyouga. Uh. Your nephew?”

No one answers, so Hyouga presses on, “I’m sorry to call so suddenly. I got your number from—“

“What do you want?”

Taken aback by the sharp voice, Hyouga gulps back any doubts and replies, “I need help.”

“What help?”

Something’s not _right_.

“My parents, they’re—“ he pauses, searching for words. Kotone doesn’t interrupt him. “They’re mean. They make me do stuff I don’t want to do—“

“If you’re calling because your parents are disciplining you then I have better things to do.”

Hyouga is really a patient person. This time however, he feels himself slipping and drowning in his anger, “I didn’t know ‘disciplining me’ means ‘abusing emotionally to the point of being afraid to step into my own house’ but maybe my knowledge isn’t up to date.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need help,” he repeats, “I can’t keep doing this.”

“What do you expect me to do?” there’s a sigh, exhausted from God knows what and Hyouga feels shuffling as if she’s moving from one place to another, “I’m not in a position of dropping everything and—“ she cuts herself off. Hyouga feels like she’s trying to find an excuse, but then in a whisper she says, “And ‘emotional abuse’ is a strong word, Hyouga-kun.”

“I know.”

“Then…”

“Then what?” he snaps, impatient, “I know I’m asking for a lot, but I can’t—I can’t come home like this. They want to take away my friends, they’re not letting me decide, they don’t—they don’t even care that I hate doing art—“

“Calm down—“

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he raises his voice, “I suffered enough and I’m done.”

“So your best solution was to call me, a relative you didn’t see in years,” she comments and it feels like a blow to a face, “Hyouga-kun, I’d love to help, believe me. But maybe if you report it with enough proof—“

“No one will believe me.”

There’s a beat of silence, “Hyouga.”

“And you know this too. Why don’t you— you always said that. I remember. You always said you’d be there for me if something went wrong. That day, you know. You’re the only one who would side with me, you know I don’t have anyone else.”

There’s a huff, then a desperate, “Yes, I know. But it’s not that simple.”

“Then simplify it!”

And he breathes heavily, just in time to see her shaky and whispered, “Hyouga, I can’t. I’m not in a position to drive all over to you and I wish I could but—“

“But what?”

“I can’t help you out of the situation I’m stuck in myself.”

And Hyouga’s last hope metaphorically shatters and he nearly drops his phone. He should sympathize with her, he knows – logically – that no one will just come running because he told them he has a problem and he has no right to expect them to fix something, but he still feels resentment and he wishes he didn’t because it makes him feel even worse.

He grits out, “Great,” and clenches his fingers over the phone, “Thanks for nothing,” he adds because for some reason he wants her to feel bad too, so he’s not alone, so she doesn’t think he can just take it like this after he gathered courage to actually call her.

“Hyouga—!”

He hangs up and in moment of anger, he throws the phone across the field.

* * *

 

When he comes over for dinner that day, Yukine-san and Daiki-san are already putting out the plates and when Hyouga offers to help, he’s shooed away to sit by the table with Atsuya-san and Shirou-san talking about soccer related events – he manages to gather out few words like ‘Holy Emperor’ and ‘Raimon’, but on the first words Shirou-san’s eyes darken and there’s something sad in them.

Hyouga decides to ignore it, Kotone’s rejection still fresh and burning in his mind and when the food arrives, Hyouga digs in like he hadn’t eaten for days. It’s quiet besides few murmurs from Daiki-san to Atsuya-san and Yukine-san chattering away with Shirou-san, but then, something seems to remind them of something, because Yukine-san slides her gaze to Hyouga’s quiet form.

For a moment, there’s silence and then, “I heard your parents came early from their trip,” she tries to encourage him to start talking but he only nods, stuffing his mouth with rice, “They came to watch you play in that match, is what Shirou has told me.”

Hyouga’s hand freezes and he doesn’t look up, “They hate soccer.”

Yukine-san doesn’t back down after that, even though Hyouga feels like she knows she should have, “Why’s that?”

“I stopped trying to find a reason for things they do,” he replies coolly, “So they didn’t come to watch me play, they came to take me off the team.”

“Why would they do that?” Daiki-san asks, “If they know you love it?”

Atsuya-san mutters out a, “They’re assholes, “ while Shirou-san gives him a look, “Our best guess is that it interferes with his studies, but I checked his grades at they’re way above average.”

Ignoring the last bit, Hyouga shrugs, “I told you. They just do things. They don’t explain themselves.”

“That’s a shame,” Yukine-san comments, “Isn’t there something you can do about it?”

“There’s no point,” Hyouga says after swallowing a mouthful of rice, “They want to take me out of Hakuren, too. If there’s anything I can do right now it would be running away, agree with it and quit soccer – maybe they’d let me stay if I did that – or in less likely scenario blackmail them.”

“I’m in for the blackmailing,” Atsuya-san perks up, “Or we could go and report them for neglect. You have the note they left you and I witnessed them being jerks to you. It would work.”

“With our current law I doubt it’s enough,” Shirou-san muses, “Perhaps with more evidence—“

“It doesn’t matter to anyone as long as it’s not physical,” Hyouga cuts them all off, “And even if I do report them and it works, they will put me in the system. It’s likely that I won’t be able to attend Hakuren either way.”

Daiki-san’s voice speaks over their hushed protests, “You thought about this a lot, didn’t you, Hyouga-kun?”

As if caught red-handed, Hyouga sends him a look, “What?”

“You know simply saying they’re hurting you is not enough; you know that if it does work they will have to find you a temporary house away from your parents and you know that if everything fails you can’t trust the system to help you.” Despite those words, Daiki-san’s eyes are still kind, still warm. Not judging, just observing and pointing out the obvious, “You were defending their actions from the start, but you were always thinking what could happen if you didn’t.”

Hyouga puts away his chopsticks, losing his appetite, “So?”

“You knew it’s wrong,” he continues, “I don’t know the whole story of what they’ve done, but deep down you always knew there’s a term for that. Maybe I’m moving blindly here, but doesn’t that mean that you’ve got enough proof for it to work?”

“How would you know that—“

“You considered the possibility of winning,” Daiki-san answers, not unkindly, “Because you searched out the foster care system. If you knew from the beginning that you’d fail, you wouldn’t even know about how the system actually works.”

Yukine-san’s face brightens then, “Then you have a way out, Hyouga-kun.”

“Not exactly,” Shirou-san leans forward, the same moment where Atsuya-san perks up, understanding.

“Usually, they’d put you with your relatives if you have any – you only go into foster care if there are no other options. It is, how they say it? Last resort, of some sorts,” Atsuya-san says and Hyouga shifts away when his eyes find his again, “You said you don’t have any relatives.”

“I said I have no contact with them.”

“The state would contact them,” Daiki-san says, “You know that and that’s why you never reached out.”

Yukine-san’s smile goes away and she looks at Hyouga with a pained expression, “Are they bad?”

Hyouga thinks of Kotone, his last hope, and takes a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself, “No one would take me in.”

“Hyouga-kun, if you don’t try—“

“I did,” he interrupts with a scowl, “I did and you know what she said? She’s not in a position to help me. She has her own mess. No else would even lift a finger at what my parents do because to them it would be disciplining me. Don’t you get it? She was the only one who ever cared, but she’s stuck there the same way I am.”

Yukine-san is stunned into silence and Hyouga realizes that all of them are looking him because he stood up somewhere in the middle of having his rant. Shame prickling under his skin and face red from embarrassment, he doesn’t know, Hyouga sits back down and gulps.

“I don’t have anyone,” he whispers, “Even if I win, I would still have to move out.”

Atsuya-san looks at him for a moment longer before he drags his gaze to Shirou-san who in turn gazes at Hyouga with a conflicted look on his face. It’s only then that Daiki-san speaks again.

“Then what will you do?”

Feeling he’s trapped in a tower with thousand doors and one key, Hyouga only shakes his head and replies in a quiet voice with a, “I don’t know,” and leaves it at that. No one mentions it again that evening.

* * *

 

Hyouga comes home.

The house is eerily silent, not even TV turned on or radio playing – only the sound of turning pages in the book, light in the living room and a tension in air that makes him suffocate. Hyouga doesn’t bother shrugging of his jacket or dropping off his messenger back in his room. The second he crosses the threshold he moves into the living room. There’s no use  hiding.

His mother sits in her chair by the window, reading. His father stands in front of her, arms crossed and expression clouded. The room is illuminated in a dim orange glow that in any other situation would make Hyouga comfortable – now it only makes him uneasy.

“I’m home,” he calls out, not daring to cross the line just yet, “How was work?”

“Fine,” his mother says, the sound of a turning page manages to make Hyouga curl on himself, “Did you say goodbye to your so-called friends at Hakuren?”

Hyouga clenches his fist, “No. I told you. I’m done with that and I won’t let you take them away.”

“And we told you we’re pulling you out from Hakuren and you will be going to another school. Away from them,” his father reminds.

“That’s not fair.”

“We provide you with food and—“

“All of this means nothing if you can’t respect my decision,” Hyouga cuts in, “I’d rather live on the streets than let you do as you please.”

“We’re your parents,” Hyouga’s mother grits out, her usually elegant voice coming out rough, “You’re supposed to do as we say, because we know what’s good for you. Do you think those kids you call friends will remember you in five or ten years? They won’t. You don’t mean a thing to them.”

Hyouga clenches his phone in his pocket and tries to reassure himself that he made the correct choice.

“As long as they’re there for me, I’m happy. You don’t even care about what I want,” he rehearsed those lines hundreds of times, imagining how it would feel actually saying them out loud, but he would never think it would feel so empowering to use them, “They do. And when I don’t do what you want me to, you hit me and—“

“It’s called discipline.”

“It’s hurting me!”

His father’s eyes flash dangerously, “Watch your tone, Hyouga.”

“No!” he raises his voice and takes a step into the room. Briefly he feels like doing so is a big mistake, but he knows he can’t back down. Not now, “I asked you why I can’t play, you didn’t answer. When I wanted to play violin, you took it away. When I knitted, you threw my supplies in the trashcan. Now you say I can’t even meet up with my friends. I did everything you told me to do before and you never stopped what you were doing and—“

Looking back, Hyouga would probably say he should have seen it coming, but when his father fist actually lands on his face and when his mother gazes at it like it didn’t happen, Hyouga can’t even react to it, falling back and clutching his face. It burns.

“I see we’ve been too lenient with you,” his father says before he pulls Hyouga up by his collar, “You’ve became disrespectful.”

“No—“ Hyouga chokes out, “No, don’t.”

Why—

“We know what’s best,” Hyouga’s mother comments from her spot, not minding that Hyouga’s face is flaming red and that his tears slide down his cheeks, “We thought you’d wake up  and realize that but I see that we made a mistake.”

“It hurts,” Hyouga gasps out when his father’s hand finds its way into his hair and pulls, “Please. Don’t. I will—I will do as you say—“

They’ve never crossed that line before, the one between being verbally and physically abusive. Sometimes he was slapped in a face, sometime hit with a ruler to his hands, but never this. Never so violent, yet composed, as if it was fair, as it if was okay to do something like this.

He didn’t expect that.

Grasping at his father’s hand, trying to pull away, Hyouga realizes that he’s been wrong the whole time – they don’t care about him and Kiyoshi was right that he could never measure up to their expectations, that he’s nothing but an object to be used. He’s not needed if he disobeys.

Distantly, he thinks he understands – he’s always agreed with what they say so they didn’t feel the need to push like this, now that he stood up to himself—

Now—

“Too late,” his father answers and Hyouga doesn’t even have time to respond before he’s flung over to the wall, “You deserve to be punished.”

The maniacal glint in his eyes, his mother watching with a pleased smile on her face, memories breaking apart in Hyouga’s mind, their images blurring between two people in front of him and the images of Dad and Mom Hyouga saw them as.  Hyouga’s heart races and his hands are shaky when he raises them to shield himself.

Then, there’s a ring and his father stops.

Hyouga doesn’t stop to wonder who’s calling at this hour, but in his panic hazed state he flings himself at the door, the startled yelp of his father going ignored as Hyouga fights to open it and he dashes down the small garden, practically jumping over the fence. He doesn’t stop when he’s free of those obstacles, he runs down the street, passes by Miyuki-san’s – his neighbor – house, passes through the flower fields and his mind takes him to the school and once he’s there he halts.

The air is freezing and Hyouga trembles. Still in his uniform and without a scarf or a jacket, his knees finally give out and he falls down on the grass. The recorder on his phone is still  running so he turns it off while saving it and grips at the phone.

He doesn’t have enough courage or strength to run back to the Fubukis house. He can’t call either Atsuya-san or Shirou-san because he doesn’t have their numbers saved. Kotone isn’t available and even if she was, she wouldn’t come since she’s miles away. Hyouga’s alone—

When a cat stops in front of Hyouga, and he stares at it, uncomprehending, then there’s a memory of cat café in his mind and then one name and a promise of calling if he needs anything, if things go south.

Hyouga dials his number before he knows it, cold fingers barely managing to hit the right contact and then there’s a voice, literally seconds after he presses the green button, calm but concerned.

“Hyouga? What’s wrong?”

“ _Touma_ ,” it comes out as a whimper and when Hyouga tries to clear his throat to get himself together he realizes that he can’t and everything is too much to control right now, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“What’s wrong?” the boy repeats and there’s shuffling on the other side, as if he was getting up from his bed. Hyouga feels bad in an instant.

“I didn’t have—“ his throat is dry, his legs are falling asleep on him as he sits on them on the grass, “I didn’t know who to call.”

“Where are you?” Touma asks and even though his voice isn’t shaking like Hyouga’s, Hyouga knows he’s worried, “Can you tell?”

“School,” his voice cracks.

“Outside?!” Touma hisses at him, then curses, “It’s too cold. Can you get inside?” then there’s a pause, and hushed voices on the other side tell Hyouga that Touma is not alone, “I will come get you. Give me ten minutes, okay?”

When the relief hits him, Hyouga slumps on the ground and closes his eyes, breathing out, “Okay.”

Someone else is saying something, words too quiet for Hyouga to decipher. Then, Touma speaks over the wind and Hyouga’s rapidly beating heart, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he tries to say, “They just—I tried to do the right thing.”

There’s a beat of silence, “You can tell me later, then. Did you go inside?”

“It’s closed.”

“Doesn’t matter, just go there,” Touma commands and after few attempts to stand back up, he drags himself over to the main entrance, “Are you there?”

“Yeah,” Hyouga whispers out, adrenaline leaving him, “I am.”

“Good. We’re almost there,” Hyouga doesn’t even pry who’s the ‘we’,  he keeps his eyes closed and listens, “Do you want me to tell you about my day? You will never believe what Kitaki did.”

It’s a good distraction and Touma’s voice is soothing, so Hyouga murmurs, “Yes, please.”

He lets his words wash over him and erase the pain of his father’s fist on his face. Touma never stops talking, not when he arrives, not when Hyouga falls asleep. He doesn’t remember much of it, but he knows he never shut up.

It’s fine.

Or at least, with Touma around Hyouga can pretend that it is.

 

* * *

 

 

Touma’s mother ushers them inside while keeping a steady hand on Hyouga’s shoulder. Touma goes ahead and when he comes back with a thick blue blanket Hyouga is ordered to sit on the couch. When he’s wrapped in the fluffy material, Touma’s mother goes into the kitchen and Hyouga can hear her taking out mugs. He wonders is she’s secretly mad Hyouga’s imposing.

Touma however sits down next to him and he doesn’t say anything, not anymore. It’s like he’s thinking too hard about something and even though Hyouga wishes he knew what exactly he doesn’t ask.

Hyouga tightens his fingers in the blanket and stays silent even when Touma’s mother comes back with a cup of warm tea and an ice pack.

Touma opens his mouth the second she disappears into her room, “Do you need anything?”

The question isn’t something he expected nor is it something he has an answer to, so he shakes his head, then winces when it hurts. He remembers now that he’s been punched and that he will probably end up having a massive bruise on his cheek.

Hyouga doesn’t want to explain that, but he knows Touma deserves an explanation, “I thought they were going to really hurt me,” he blurts out before he can talk himself out of it and nearly flinches when Touma hold and ice pack, wrapped in a towel, to his burning cheek, “I’m sorry—“

“If you say you’re sorry one more time I’m gonna pull Coach Atsuya on you and make you run laps around the school,” Touma warns.

Somehow, Hyouga knows he’s not joking, “I’m—“ he cuts himself off and smiles weakly, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming to get me. For doing,” he gestures with the hand not holding the mug at nothing in peculiar, “all this.”

“I told you to call me,” Touma says unbothered, not caring about how that makes Hyouga feel, how it makes his heart skip a beat and not in an unpleasant way; and when Touma’s dark eyes look up to Hyouga and he has to force himself to not look away, the boy continues, “I’m happy you did.”

It’s that simple for him.

Then, Touma’s expression darkens for a moment and he pulls his hand away, “Are you having trouble seeing things?”

Hyouga shakes his head, “No. It only hurts.”

He nods, “Make sure to tell me if it gives you trouble.”

“Okay,” and when the silence starts to weight down on him, he gulps down and clears his throat. Touma immediately looks back to him, “It’s—um. It’s late, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Shifting a little under the blanket, Hyouga pushes on, “You’re tired.”

“Maybe,” Touma allows.

“Then—“

“Is there a point in you asking me all these?” he asks finally, “Because I’m not going to go to sleep if you don’t. I’m not moving from this spot and I’m not taking my eyes off you seeing that that one time I did you came back with a black eye.”

A little offended, Hyouga defends, “I wouldn’t run away.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Feeling defeated, Hyouga slumps his shoulders, “There’s no winning with you, huh?”

“Not when it comes to you, no.”

Hyouga has a feeling that the red on his cheeks isn’t from the punch anymore and trying to play it safe, he coughs, “I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“You want to call it a night?”

“Yeah.”

Touma looks at him for a moment, probably judging if Hyouga’s really that exhausted or if he’s saying that only to make Touma go back to bed. In the end, he sighs and puts the ice pack on the table, then he gathers Hyouga’s stuff and slings it over his shoulder, “Come on. Can you get up?”

Instead of answering, Hyouga stands up, blanket still wrapped around himself and drags himself all over to Touma’s room, then awkwardly stands in the threshold. Touma’s walls are covered with soccer and speed-skating posters, his desk tucked in the corner is neatly organized and judging by the way his closet is closed his clothes are neatly folded too. He doesn’t sleep on the bed like Hyouga, instead there’s a futon in the middle of the room.

So much different than Hyouga’s. They look the same, there’s not much stuff but even so Touma’s room still looks warmer.

He takes a sip of his tea.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

Head snapping up to Touma taking out an extra mattress, Hyouga shakes his head, “No. I’m fine. Thanks,” he looks around, “Should I, should I help you?”

“Nah,” Touma waves him off, already moving to take out the covers, “Just let me know if you need something else.”

Despite being in a unfamiliar place Hyouga feels strangely at peace. The house is quiet, but calm and welcoming. Even though the walls are painted in a teal it doesn’t feel cold or empty. Touma’s mother didn’t even bat an eye at coming so late to get him. Touma himself doesn’t look like he cares that Hyouga’s called at God knows what hour, either.

When the bed is made, Hyouga can feel his eyes dropping at the thought of snuggling into the pillows. Touma notices that right away and he smirks, “You actually look adorable like this, you know?”

Hyouga is suddenly wide awake, “Huh?”

The boy shakes his head fondly, then points to the mattress on the left, “You can go ahead and go to sleep. You need it,” then he looks at Hyouga’s clothes and grimaces, “I will give you some of my stuff and you can change, too.”

“I can sleep in—“

“Nope.”

“But—“

“Hyouga, just let me do this one thing for you, okay?” Touma cuts him off before a change of clothes is thrown at him, “Let me take care of you.”

The last bit is almost whispered and feels vulnerable to even admit and the look on Touma’s usually smirking or composed and grumpy face is enough to make Hyouga accept the situation, drink the last of his tea and place the mug on the desk, then quickly change and slid under the covers.

Touma leaves for a moment to bring a glass of water to put next to Hyouga’s futon and then he lays down as well. Dressed in his shirt, a little too big in some places, Hyouga images how it would feel to sleep closer to him. The thought makes him blush, so he dismisses it.

“Goodnight,” Touma says before turning off the lights.

Hyouga closes his eyes and practically hugs himself, “Goodnight.”

For the first time Hyouga doesn’t feel scared closing his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Hyouga comes back with a shout, sweat drenched clothes and heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, with Touma next to him holding a glass of water Hyouga downs in practically one gulp.

Before he can apologize, Touma falls back on his butt with a sigh, “I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a nightmare after what happened.”

Hyouga wants to point out that Touma technically doesn’t know what happened but he bites his tongue and nods, not feeling up to talking just yet. Sensing that, Touma glances at the clock then slumps back on his own covers with a sigh, “My mom says I don’t need to go to school, so we’re staying in. What do you want to do?”

“You’re missing out school—“

“I _asked_ what do you want to do?” Touma repeats, firmer.

Hyouga understands a warning when he sees one and he can read between the lines. It’s a Touma way of saying, ‘this is my decision, so let me help you and stop being a stubborn dumbass’ except if Touma was really to say it he wouldn’t be himself.

So Hyouga chokes down his protests and squishes the urge to reject any sort of help or affection and says in a timid voice, “Can we—“ at the expectant look in Touma’s eyes, he takes a deep breath, bottom lip trembling and the recent events catching up with his – now clear – mind, “Can we just sit like this for a while?”

Understanding passes by on Touma’s face and his eyes soften, “Yeah. Of course,” then a little quieter as he wraps Hyouga in a blanket again, “Anything for you.”

When Hyouga finally cries, it’s damn near silent. His entire body shakes and he swallows down his hiccups, and when Touma sits next to him and pulls him in a one-armed hug, he rests his head on the boy’s shoulder. When Hyouga cries it’s like he’s not crying at all, like he taught himself to be quiet even doing that simple thing.

Touma doesn’t like that thought, so he just tightens his arm around Hyouga.

They don’t move from that spot and soon, Hyouga falls back asleep. When Touma’s mother comes in to check on them, she doesn’t even try to hide her pained expression. Touma mirrors her look and lets her help him lay Hyouga down.

“I’ll be back soon,” she whispers to him, “I need to buy some groceries.”

Touma nods, “We’ll be okay.”

But she still hesitates, “Should I call his parents?”

“No,” Touma shakes his head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. But could you let Coach Atsuya know?” at her nod, he adds, “Thanks, Mom.”

“Don’t mention it,” with one last look at sleeping Hyouga, she disappears closing the door behind her.

Touma looks at that spot for a moment before he sighs, looks down on his friend then resigns himself to  a lazy morning and falls back on the pillow.

“You’re really troublesome, loser,” he murmurs to himself.

 _I wouldn’t have it any other way, though,_ he thinks.

 

* * *

 

 

Next day is a nightmare and so is attending class practically without any necessary textbooks. Touma lend him a pencil and a pen, he had some spare notebooks in his desk, but actually admitting to the teacher that he forgot most of the material was his personal defeat.

The moment he steps out of the classroom, classes done for the day, he feels terrible. His cheek hurts and when he checks his face in the phone he winces at the slightly purple color. Students throw him looks and he even caught Kitaki-san gazing at him concerned from time to time. No one asks what happened.

Hyouga is relieved – he doesn’t know if the excuse of banging himself on the door is plausible enough.

Touma escorts him to the gym when it’s time for after-school practice and sticks so close even Kou gives them a questioning look and a frown. Hyouga tries to ignore it while Touma seems dead set on pretending it’s a normal day for them.

It isn’t. Everyone knows Touma usually keeps his distance unless he’s up and reminding people to take a break and stretch after exercise. He and Ginjirou-san usually team up on that, so when they see him so close, so possessive – it’s like a warning sign.

The only one who comments on it is Atsuya-san who stops practice only to point out Hyouga’s black eye with a pointed finger and narrowed eyes, “Okay, did you to fight or something? Itetsuki, I know you’re a violent child but I didn’t suspect you’d go that far.”

Touma glares at him. Shirou-san stops talking to Koori and turns to him, “Who fought who?”

Touma’s attempts to explain get cut off when Atsuya-san waves a hand in his face and answers for him, “Itetsuki with Yukimura. Aniki, come here and talk sense into their dense heads.”

“Look who’s talking?” Hyouga mutters under his breath.

Atsuya-san’s eyes zero on him, “What was that?”

Hyouga averts his own look and whistles, “Nothing.”

“Itetsuki-kun—“ Shirou-san begins, seeing the bruise, but Touma huffs and turns away at that.

Hyouga glances at him, then hurries to explain, “He didn’t do it.”

“Enlighten us who did, then,” Atsuya-san crosses his arms, “Because if it wasn’t Itetsuki…” he trails off meaningfully, “Actually. It would make a lot more sense why I got a call early in the morning, but still—“

Hyouga’s voice dies on him and he forces himself to stay put. He shrugs. Shirou-san opens his mouth to say something, his eyes soften to the calm green Hyouga’s so used to now, but he cuts himself off before he can even begin, turning at the sound of opening front doors and hurried steps.

Hyouga barely has a time to check it out himself before he stumbles at sudden weight on himself. He flinches, before he faintly recognizes the smell of old pages and paint and there’s a whisper and a hand in his hair and he stills, wide-eyed.

Shirou-san snaps his mouth shut. Touma and Atsuya-san stand awkwardly at the side.

Finally snapping to himself, Hyouga pats her back. It seems to wake her up from some kind of daze because she releases her hold on him and steps away, but still keeps a firm, lithe hand on his wrist.

Yukimura Kotone, practically on her knees, looks like she went through hell and back to get there, with messy, unkempt hair and pale, sickly skin that doesn’t look much better than Hyouga’s own  and eyes in a dull grey color that doesn’t have much life.

Hyouga thinks he’s actually terrified – she didn’t look like that years ago.

Then the words, ‘I can’t help you out of a situation I’m stuck in myself’ ring in his head and he feels nauseous.

“Kotone-san?” he tries to say, but words keep cracking at every syllable.

“I didn’t know,” she croaks out and he thinks she’s close to sobbing it out when she touches his cheek with calloused fingers, “I didn’t know he’d go that far. I didn’t think they would stomp so low. Hyouga-kun, I swear if I had known it was even possible—“ she cuts herself off.

Almost nothing makes sense, not her appearance, not her look, and certainly not her sudden change of heart. Didn’t she say she can’t help him? Wasn’t she stuck? Why would she drop everything?

Why does she act like she _cares?_

Hyouga watches helplessly.

Touma clears his throat and backs away. Silently, Atsuya-san does the same, but Shirou-san stays put. Hyouga is glad, because he doesn’t even know how to deal with that. He doesn’t know anything, at this point. Nothing makes sense.

“You’d do what?” he asks quietly.

 “I don’t know,” she admits, “I’d do something. You don’t deserve that.”

Hyouga tries to be angry at her – it would at least mean something. Right now, Hyouga can’t even make himself snap at her. It’s all numb.

“You said—“

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I was planning on leaving him anyways,”  she tells him, finally wiping away a stray tear on her cheeks, “I had everything ready. My lawyer, my stuff packed and documents safe. I just didn’t have the courage to go.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Hyouga takes a step back. Kotone hides a wince at that, eyes still trained on the bruise in a conflicted expression, “Sometimes, you act not to save yourself but to save someone else. I’m sorry I took so long, Hyouga-kun.”

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t. Or else you wouldn’t have that black eye,” she glances at Shirou-san next to them, “He didn’t get it during practice?”

“No,” Shirou-san shakes his head, “He didn’t.”

Kotone stands back up but she’s still shorter than Hyouga’s neighbor – Miyuki-san – and the thought makes him smile weakly. When she fixes her clothes she gives Hyouga another long look before checking her watch, “We need to get going if we want to catch the bus.”

“The bus?”

“I’m getting you out of there,” she states and for a moment she sounded like the Yukimura Kotone Hyouga knows, fierce and stubborn, “We can talk on the way to the police station. I’m reporting them.”

“But then they will—“

Shirou-san looks ready to protest too, but Kotone cuts in with a simple, “I will take care of that. You’re staying at Hakuren.”

Shirou-san stands back down and even though normally Hyouga would be reassured by that and follow his example, he still worries, still tries to find a reason to refuse, because it’s too good to be true. It can’t be happening for real.

“Why would you go that far?”

“I talked with your homeroom teacher on my way here,” she explains shortly, “I saw that kid that was standing next to you look at you like you’re the only thing that matters here. Your coach?” she looks at Shirou-san for confirmation, “I heard about him from others. He’s nothing like Fifth Sector makes him out to be.”

“Fifth Sector? How do you even know about that?”

Noticing the blush on his cheeks, Kotone stares at him for longer than necessary, “I read about it on my way here. I’m sorry if I looked less composed than you imagined, I didn’t expect you to—“ her breath hitches, “—to have already gotten hurt.”

“Well.”

“Is it okay for me to take him?” Kotone glances at Shirou-san, “I’m his aunt.”

“You’re technically not authorized…”

“Please.”

Shirou-san sighs, “Just don’t make me regret it.”

When Kotone looks at him seriously Hyouga realizes that she’s still holding his wrist. It’s like a gentle reminder that she’s there and Hyouga is torn between trusting her and doubting everything she says like he taught himself.

In the end, his other hand latches onto the sleeve of her turtleneck. Shirou-san’s eyes catch on that movement and Hyouga wonders what he sees – a needy kid in need of reassurance or a pathetic act of trying to be tougher than he actually is.

When Kotone looks back at him, there’s a weak smile on her face but it’s enough to settle his mind and let him relax.

“I won’t,” she answers.

He doesn’t let go of her hand even when they reach the bus.

 

* * *

 

 

Legal process of things Kotone had in mind takes forever to actually start working and Hyouga sticks close to the people who calm him down and don’t stress him out even more, but he knows it’s futile effort to avoid what’s to come.

Kotone took him to the police station to report Hyouga’s living conditions and situation and they only make a short stop to Hyouga’s home when his parents aren’t there to gather the evidence Hyouga hid there for years. Recordings or pictures, all kinds of stuff Hyouga could get his hands on. Kotone understands the struggle of actually giving it up and she waits for him as he slowly looks it over before turning it in. The police officer Hyouga vaguely remembers seeing in passing gives him a sympathetic look and a reassuring smile, sending them on their way.

Then, the lawyer Kotone was talking about makes her appearance as well and she doesn’t sugar-coat her words as she looks Hyouga over with a critical eye, gaze stopping on his face and blooming bruise.

When she says, “It’s enough for me to keep those people away from you,” Hyouga feels like he can breathe and he practically slumps back against Kotone.

Kotone herself takes a shaky breath at that, “Thank you.”

“I’m just doing my job,” the lawyer answers and Hyouga wraps his arms around himself at the cool tone, “You remember that you have to appear in court for your own hearing in three days, Yukimura-san?” at her nod, she hums, “Good. Then I will start on this case as soon as possible. Did you contact the police?”

The rest of the conversation are mundane details Hyouga probably should at least try to remember and confirming nods and exchanged pleasantries. When the lawyer bids them goodbye and Kotone makes her way towards the bus station, Hyouga grips at her hand again and asks, “What now?”

“I have to rent out an apartment,” she answers, “Or a hotel room.”

“You didn’t do that before?”

“I rushed out of the house and took my stuff,” she gestures to her duffel bag, “before I could make any arrangements.”

“Oh.”

Kotone glances at him from the corner of her eye, “I know I look like a mess, but I can handle it. Don’t worry over it, it’s not your job.”

“My job…?”

“You’re a kid,” she says firmly and for some reason hearing it from her mouth twists something inside of his chest, “I’m an adult. We’re going to live with each other when all of this is over, so I will take care of bills and dinners and you will meet with your friends, do stupid stuff kids your age do and let me take care of you.”

Hyouga keeps quiet, a question burning his tongue. After a moment of hesitation whether it’s worth it to voice it, Hyouga speaks up, “Why are you not mad? It’s a bother to do all this for me.”

“You’re a child—“

“Not your child,” Hyouga reminds, a bit snappishly.

Kotone nods, “Not my child, yes. But my nephew, even if I didn’t act like your family all these years.” Then, quieter and more resigned as they set of in the direction of the bus station once again, “But I’d like to redeem myself. You don’t have to forgive me, you don’t even have to acknowledge my presence, but you asked for my help so now you’re getting it.”

The ‘deal with it’ goes unspoken but Hyouga hears it loud and clear.

He nods, looking away, “Alright.”

The answer seems to satisfy her and she turns back to face forward. Ahead of her there’s nothing but grass and slowly melting snow and the sun is slowly coming down. For some reason, Hyouga can’t help but stare at it.

Perhaps, Kotone is seeing something Hyouga isn’t ready to notice.

Maybe.

And maybe one day, looking ahead where there seems to be nothing, Hyouga might be able to see something more too.

**Author's Note:**

> i know Nothing about sports or legal stuff but this is fiction so i can do whatever i want


End file.
